Enstars sure is an experience. Did I miss anything?

Love and Care Nightmare

Devilgrams: Demons Catch Colds?! (Asmodeus), Let Me Take Care of You (Belphegor), A Kind Demon's Care (Barbatos)

I know that the review is very late and there's about half a day left, but I've been extremely busy recently and didn't exactly have enough live braincells to actually evaluate anything.

Anyroads, let's go with the review. Pardon the possible typos.

Since both the cards with their pictures and titles as well as the Nightmare name itself generally are crystal clear what's the premise, I wouldn't consider it a spoiler.

Demons Catch Colds?!

The Devilgram doesn't have a particular plot, it's just Asmo being sick, needy and whiny. He's adorable though, so I'd absolutely forgive him for that. He's also quite cute, trying to maintain his usual behaviour but at the same time lacking the strength.

There's also a kiss choice at the end of the Devilgram, so it's not like we just take care of Asmo all the time. Actual caretaking takes about one and half part, so it doesn't get boring or dull, but gives a nice glimpse. It has a solid introduction, some soft moments and then the ending, so it mostly seems quite well paced. I think though the sickness could be a bit longer as the actual cute part seems a bit short. It definitely had the potential for more heartwarming moments.

But Asmo's pained voice clip in reaction to loud noise is a wonderful addition, but it might be just me liking distressed demon sounds.

Choices: unlock slightly different exchanges and even if the difference is obviously very small plot-wise as it cannot change the storyline, the conversation can go differently, so it makes replaying through the Devilgram to unlock the choices more fun. A good thing for people who like full completion. Especially in the first two parts. The following two have many choices that are mostly choice + reaction but there's plenty of them to change the flow of the conversation between MC and Asmo.

Music: unnoticeable, so how it should be in such a Devilgram. There's no need to enhance the mood with music, so staying with the usual music was a good choice.

In conclusion, a nice, really good Devilgram. Worth a try if you like Asmo and would like to read something about him.

Let Me Take Care of You

MC gets sick and Belphie is literally not leaving their side because they're sick. He's somewhat tsun about it, but also fusses over it constantly and checks on MC all the time.

I really liked how he was in the Devilgram. It might put someone off that he's rude in one scene, but aside from that no matter what he says, he is absolutely clearly worried and wants to take care of his favourite human, even if he's still his bratty self and doesn't want to admit being concerned. He literally pampers MC back to health, while being tsun about it.

Moving picture: fits into the story and doesn't look like it was squished between other scenes just to be there, but is a part of the story. That's good, it seems like the devs are getting better at incorporating those moving CGs. However, the second CG looks a bit weird. If I was nitpicking, I'd say that checking your temperature on your fringe isn't exactly effective, but the CG has more problems. The animation isn't as smooth and it attempts to look like talking and the gesture to check MC's temperature seem unnatural. The first CG has less animation and simply is nicer to look at.

Choices: choices often are about MC - and mostly you can only choose to push yourself or push yourself more. You can't really whine or be needy of your fave demon's attention. Some choices slightly change what happens in the scene, so that's definitely a good thing. but there are also some that unlock additional choices. Surprisingly, they aren't an extension of the romantic scenes, they're mostly the effect of MC pushing themself or not being needy.

Music: unnoticeable. That's good since the Devilgram doesn't need music to emphasize the mood.

In general, a very nice Devilgram, if you can stand MC pushing themself to the point that Belphie of all people has to put effort into preventing them from getting worse. Belphie is still the Belphie we know, but also shows a lot of care towards MC, so the overall impression is good.

A Kind Demon's Care

Neither Barbatos or MC are sick, but they take care together of Little D. No 2. Barbatos is such a caring mum in the Devilgram and opens up a tiny bit to MC as well about his past illness, what it taught him and also about his relationship with the little familiars.

This is probably the most Information heavy Devilgram of Barbatos until this point. His previous Devilgrams passed some tiny bits about him between the lines rather than state anything explicitly, this one however has a lot.

For this sole reason it's worth a try. Plot-wise it's not as cute as the other ones, and especially since it's focuses on the demon familiar rather than MC's relationship with Barbatos. Though I admit that Barbatos being such a mum for the sick Little D. was a heartwarming sight, and to be honest - listening to Barbatos share something about himself is definitely worth it.

Also there's a kiss choice once caretaking over Number 2 comes to an end. Still no chu sound though.

Moving picture: fits into the story. The only fault of the first CG are unnatural movements of Barb's mouth as the picture tries to show him talking, but to be honest, it's not very good. Not very bad either though. The second CG has a similar problem and the animation is less smooth.

Choices: there's plenty of them as you're having a conversation with Barbatos, so they shape it quite well even if many are just choice + reaction. There are some that change a bit more in what happens in the scene though.

Music: doesn't distract, most is and barely noticeable. Though the Castle music doesn't really go too well with one nervous scene - it's dramatic, so it should technically fit okay, but it's not exactly suited for a scene where the characters are worried.

In conclusion, all Devilgrams are worth your time. Asmo and Belphie got some really cute ones that show the bond between them and MC, Barb is a bit different but he has shared a lot in his Devilgram. The Nightmare is generally very even in terms of quality as all stories are balanced and offer something interesting.

this one doesn’t have a name, i’m awful at coming up with them lmaoo

this one is difficult. i personal don’t find it very disturbing, but someone i had read over this suggested that kids under 13 should be careful reading this.

there is blood; mentions of the smell and colour of it. there is just overall some kind of creepy imagery i guess? once again i’m no good with these warnings, but the story does describe a monster with some messed up anatomy, but i don’t know how disturbing that would be.

either way, just be cautious as i’d hate to cause any problems for anyone

his heart is pounding loud in his ears, the rushing of his blood merely white noise at this point. fear is settled deep into his bones, feeling like his body is freezing from the inside out as he runs. he can’t breathe, and panic is bubbling up from his core and wrapping around his throat and twisting his lungs- it feels like he is one gasp away from them collapsing in on themselves, but there is no time to stop and catch his breath, no time to try and calm himself, untangle the ugly rope of terror twisting around his neck. he has to keep going, he has to, he has to, he has to.

his feet fall heavy against the old and cobbled stone floor, the sound bouncing off the walls and only adding to the noise filling his head, muddling his thoughts of what do i do, what do i do, what do i do? if he listens close enough, he can discern a second set of steps, or maybe a third, fourth.. fifth? he can’t quite tell, it could be any number, but it’s too many, too many for the single creature that is chasing him. he can hear them echoing his own through the empty hall, pushing him to run faster, faster, faster, to find some tiny nook, someplace he can squeeze himself into, somewhere too small for the thing to reach him. 

he feels about ready to drop dead where is, but he tries to push on, turning down another corridor. there seems to be hundreds, if not thousands of hallways, and he doesn’t know if it’s the fear manipulating his memories of the building in daylight, or if this place truly is a never ending maze. 

he gulps down another breath, looking over his shoulder for only a brief second. he can see the shadowed figure of the creature, tall and mangled and ill proportioned, holding no resemblance to a human, something like a mix of too many wild animals. it’s tall, almost hunching over to fit under the arched roof, bloody red eyes the only real thing he’s able to make out. it’s limbs look too long, and there are too many joints throughout what would be it’s limbs, making it bent in places that simply aren't right. it’s jaw seems crooked, opening into too many overlapping teeth, pointed and yellowing, dripping with something dark.

turning back to the hall, he almost stumbles on an uneven stone, catching himself as he breathes raggedly. his chest is heaving, and he feels light headed, head spinning as he looks along the empty walls for a door, a stairwell, something. he catches a glint of light up ahead, a doorknob, a door leading to who knows where. 

he bites his lip as he stumbles to a stop in front of the door, learning heavily against it as he jiggles the door handle, praying to whoever may listen that it’s not locked, please let it be unlocked.

the door finally gives, and he almost sobs as he stumbles into the room. he can hear the steady fall of footsteps catching up to him as he closes the door slowly, making as little noise as he could. he lets his body fall gently against the heavy wooden door, sliding down as he tries to catch his breath in cut off gasps. he can feel his whole body shaking, and he lets his eyes flick over the storage room; old boxes, filled with cleaning supplies or unused books, dust and cobwebs caught in the corners. 

the heavy footfalls get closer, and he holds his breath, eyes watering as he squeezes them shut, reciting a jumbled string of pleas in his head. for what, he doesn’t know, but it’s the only thing he can do, the only thing to keep his mind off of the thing outside the little room. 

the steps seem to stall, and he hesitantly breathes out, unsure if the creature walked past the room. he gulps, wiping away the few tears that fell before letting his hands gently fall to the ice-cold ground as he waits, sitting in silence for minutes that drag into centuries. his body grows steady through each passing second, the tremors lessening as nothing happens and nothing continues to happen, and he lets out quiet breaths, calming himself with each inhale and exhale. 

he lets his body relax more into the door, swallowing again. he’s adjusting his body again, sure that whatever the hell it was has passed, it’s gone and he’s safe. 

before he can fully calm himself, before anything really, there’s a loud thump at the door, rattling it on it’s hinges and moving his body with the force. his eyes fly wide, the same dread weighing him down and flooding through him faster than he can blink, and the thumping continues on, only getting more forceful. 

he scrabbles away from the door, heart beating harder and harder, loud enough that he’s sure whatever is out there can hear it, can hear the way his mind scrambles to find an exit, the way his blood goes colder than ever and the way his stomach drops. 

the door is beginning to splinter, the hinge slowly ripping free of the wall, and with one more thud, the door burst open, just barely missing his legs as he pulls them up against his chest, pushing himself as far back into the boxes as he can, hoping against everything that he can curl small enough and maybe completely disappear.

he can hear the creature, whatever it is, he doesn’t know, panting above him, cold puffs of air ruffling his hair, he can smell the metallic blood dripping off of it.

it stands there, staring at him with all too bright red eyes, it’s own twisted version of a chest heaving up and down, up and down, but doing nothing more. 

he breathes in the tang of blood, the thick smell of smoke and ash, until, he thinks, maybe he’s only imagining it, maybe it’ll be gone when he looks up, only the scent lingering behind, maybe this is a dream and he will wake up.

he takes one more breath, his lungs aching, and he swallows hard. he slowly lifts his head from where he had buried it into his knees, holding his arms tight over the top of it.

the eyes seemed to be glowing, a dark and thick shade of red, blood red. there is coarse and matted fur, black and smokey. it seems to be turning into a shadow the farther away from the creature’s body, little wisps dissipating to nothing. it’s teeth are long and sharp, narrow and over lapping each other, mouth filled with way too many.

he stares, eyes wide and chest heaving. he takes a breath, another, and before he can inhale a third, the thing lunges forwards, sending him flinching back before everything fades to nothing.

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 16)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3565

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five days later...

Tonight was the night. 

Your night. Your hands were slightly shaking as you went through the essays the students had written for an assignment. You took a deep breath and stood up, and just then, Spence called, making you jump.

“Hello?” you answered shakily. 

“Hey, you okay? You sound…”

“I’m fine, Spence. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to let you know we got the unsub. Only took six days. Might’ve taken three if you were here.”

“Yeah, well I’m not,” you huffed.

“I wish you were.”

“Do you, Spence? Or is JJ enough?” you snapped.

He sighed. “Y/N, please, we’ve been over this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but JJ and I are not a thing. I don’t feel anything for her.” 

“Have you stopped working with her?”

“As much as I can, yes. I’ve asked Emily that we not be left alone on cases.”

“Did you tell her why?”

“I told her what JJ said and that I was uncomfortable and didn’t want JJ to think anything or assume anything that wasn’t true.” 

You bit your lip and slowly nodded. 

“I can’t talk right now, could we talk later?” you tried, fighting back tears. You were so conflicted.

Did you not want to talk to Spencer because of your worry and insecurity… or was it because you were so terrified you slip up? Or because you felt physically ill any time you got on the phone, knowing you were hiding yourself from your amazing husband. Spencer didn’t deserve a wife that lied like this. But there was no winning.

Either you lie and keep Spencer blissfully ignorant, and you could keep the world safe from monsters.

Or you tell the truth to Spencer, lose the love of your life, and the world is in more danger. 

If this was how you felt on the phone, how could you ever face Spencer for years and hide victims, bodies, murders, crimes…? How could you do that? 

“No, Y/N, I want to talk now. I know you don’t have class for two more hours. Please. Just… listen to me. I love you, so much. I love you more than anything. There is nothing between JJ and I now, nor has there ever been. You know this. I can’t explain why JJ waited until you’re gone to tell me how she felt. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, alright? But I made a mistake, okay? I miss you, so much.” 

You shook your head, your lips pressed together. “I miss you too,” you confessed. At least this was the truth. 

“So can we please move past this? Please?”

“Yes, yeah… I think we can.”

A sigh of relief came from the other side of the phone. “Thank you so much, sweetie. How’s the case by the way? Haven’t talked about it much.”

“Hit a brick wall.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You want us to look?”

“And admit defeat to the director? No thanks.” 

“Mmm, well, alright. Well, Garcia said to tell you she says hello.”

“Tell her I said hi back,” you said back, fighting tears. 

“I will…. Y/N, is everything okay? Do we need to go away? Just get some vacation and go somewhere, away from work…”

“That sounds nice… but um, maybe when I’m done with classes down here? I can’t just up and leave.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’m just… I’m worried about us? You’ve been so distant lately and we haven’t talked much in a while… I know it’s because of the JJ thing but is there something else bothering you?”

Ah, the perks of being married to a profiler.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m just… dealing with working these two jobs and the whole JJ thing… That’s all,” you said, trying to reassure him. 

“Alright… Well I love you. I’ll let you go so you can prepare for class.”

“Thanks. I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

And with that, you were preparing for class, and in just a few hours, you’d commit your first murder by yourself. 

-----------------

“Okay, alright, I’ve got the tranquilizer,” you confirmed, holding up the needle, filled with the sedative. 

“And you know how to administer it?”

“Yeah, you fucking stab them,” you said with an eye roll.

“Where?” he said demandingly. 

“The jugular.” 

“Good. This isn’t a game, Y/N,” he nearly hissed.

“I know it’s not a game, Dexter. I’ve never treated it that way.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered as he got his duffel bag ready, just in case.

You narrowed your gaze as you completed your own kill bag. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong or--”

“No, you just need to take this seriously.” 

“I have been,” you said back evenly. 

“I’m just worried you don’t realize how much goes into this,” he commented. “It’s not just your ass on the line.”

“I know that,” you stated. You took a deep breath and ran your hands through your hair. “I know that if I fuck up, you’re liable too. I know what we did the other nights with the dogs was way off your radar. I’m sorry for pushing you to do that.”

He looked down, silent, so you continued.

“In the future, I will save animals if they’re being mistreated, but, I will wait until the victim is gone. This way there’s no chance of being caught, and maybe authorities will find them too.” You took a deep breath. “But I am sorry for deviating from the plan the other night. It won’t happen again. We’ll go to the bar, I’ll stick him in the neck, we’ll set up the kill room, I’ll do my thing, and you can do yours. We take him to the ocean and we’re done.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he commented. 

“It’s not easy. I know that. I know that you’ve taken years to perfect and master this. You’ve taught me a lot. I will follow every instruction to the letter,” you assured. 

“I just don’t… I’ve done a lot of work to keep this quiet.”

“I know, and I’m not here to jeopardize that. You think if I were, I’d be lying to my husband and staying here with you and going to dinner with your girlfriend and sister? No. I’m doing all this to keep up appearances and study as much as I can about you.” 

“Alright.”

“So you trust me? You trust me to not fuck up your life or your craftsmanship?”

He slightly laughed. “Of course I trust you. You aren’t some random woman that showed up on my doorstep. You’re a highly trained FBI agent. I know you have the skills to be stealthy when need be and how to keep calm under pressure. I know you’ve watched me make these kills, and you even helped on one.”

A feeling of uncertainty washed over you. 

“I just want you to make sure this is the path you want.” 

“It is. Can we just do this now? I want that fucker gone.” 

He laughed. “As you wish.”

And so the two of you set out. It was around 11:30 at night. He locked his door behind him and you drove your car to the bar the guy went to every Friday. All you had to do was wait for him to exit. 

“Can you catch him alone? Remember to stick him in the shadows.”

“Yes, and I will.” 

He nodded and you two sat there, waiting for him to come out. After ten minutes, he came out of the bar, stumbling. Now was the time to make your move. You crossed the dimly lit street and waited in the shadows to strike. You were behind the dumpsters, under a small grove of trees. When he went to unlock his car, you came over to him.

“Hey, could you give me a jump?” you asked, walking up, trying to be slightly flirtatious, even though it turned your stomach. 

He turned and eyed you up and down. “I can give you whatever you like, pretty thing. Where’s your car?” 

“It’s right over there,” you noted, pointing the opposite way of yourself. He turned and you quickly pulled the cap off the needle and jammed it in his neck. He crumpled to the ground and you looked around. So far, only Dexter was nearby. You reached for his keys on the ground and unlocked the car. You put him in the backseat, so if anyone came out of the bar, you could say you were his friend, giving him a ride home and letting him sleep it off in the back. 

You drove over to your car, and Dexter jumped into the passenger seat.

“Is it bad to say I’m impressed?” he asked, slightly giddy as he settled in.

“Absolutely not, I’m flattered,” you said with a smile.

“That was quick, effective, and inconspicuous.” 

“Thank you, Dexter, I appreciate that.” 

He smiled at you and the two of you drove all the way to the shop. You pulled the car as close to the wide door as you could. Instead of being in the back of the shop like the night you rescued the dogs, you were in the front. Dexter picked the lock, and you pushed the wide door slightly open before dragging the guy inside. 

Dexter and you laid out the plastic, pulled the table onto it, set it up, then got Rodriguez on the table. You told Dexter you didn’t want him to be naked, but he reminded you that his clothes could contain DNA if you didn’t take it off and burn it. Begrudgingly, you removed his clothing and got him onto the table -- not without a fight though, as he was dead weight. You were in good shape, but man, this was exhausting. How the hell did Dexter do this? 

You wrapped him in the plastic wrap and then Dexter helped you pull the plastic cover up to catch blood spatter. 

“Now we wait, right?” you asked, nervous just like when it was your first time with Dexter.

“Yeah. Or you can do it while he’s asleep. He’ll never see it coming, he won’t feel anything. It’s up to you.”

You bit your lip, thinking. After a second, you nodded. “No… No I want him to know exactly why he’s here. I want him to know that his heartless, soullessness is what got him here.”

All Dexter did was nod, his arms crossed. 

Finally, he was awake, and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. 

“What the---Where the fuck am I? You better fucking let me go!” he said, shouting before you punched him straight in the face, right over the nose. Instantly, blood poured out.

“Keep fucking quiet,” you growled, your face near his. That actually felt really god damn good. 

He looked at you with hatred, and even moreso, fear. 

“I’d have you look around, Angel, but I know that’s a little hard to do,” you began as you paced around the table. You nearly forgot Dexter was there. As soon as Angel woke up, you slipped into the role you needed to fill, and concerning yourself with Dexter wasn’t part of that role. “I’ll make this very simple for you. You run an illegal practice. Not only is it illegal, but to some, it’s downright sickening.”

“Oh, is that you? Is this some sort of scare tactic from PETA?” he asked, mocking you. 

You got in his face instantly. “Do I fucking look like I’m from PETA?” 

 “A little bit, yeah. You don’t exactly scare me.” 

Your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your anger flaring. You turned and grabbed a knife from your bag. 

“How about now?”

“Anyone can hold a knife,” he scoffed. 

“Y/N, time, remember your time,” Dexter subtly reminded in a low voice. Your eyes glanced to his form and he gave you a look. He was warning you to pick up the pace. You didn’t have all night, and you’d need to learn to kill quick. 

“Well I’m not just anyone. I happen to give a shit what happens to this world, Angel. And part of the problem with this world is people like you. People who think it’s okay to hurt something innocent, something that can’t fight back.” 

“All this... over some fucking dogs?!” he shouted.

You grabbed duct tape, put it over his mouth quickly, and stabbed his leg, making him cry out and moan through the tape. 

“Yes, all this over some dogs. Now, I like to kill the way you like to kill, but since I can’t hire someone else to fight you to the death and I don’t feel like getting into a messy fight, I’ll do the next best thing.”

He looked at you with uncertainty in his eyes. 

“Your dogs… Well, I should say, the dogs you have killed, the other dog usually bites their throat right?” 

His eyes slowly got wider as you pulled out two ice picks.

“It’s vulgar, I know, but maybe you should’ve just gotten a fucking job,” you said in a low voice as you got down to his level. You raised the ice picks high, one in each hand, you were going to slam them down into his neck, but then…. But then suddenly you couldn’t do it. 

Your frenzied eyes glanced up to Dexter as your heart raced. You dropped the weapons and looked at your hands, tears coming to your eyes. 

“Dex, I can’t do it,” you confessed. 

“Yes you can,” he assured. “You’ve done this before.”

“No, no, no. What if one of us gets caught? What if--”

He rounded the table and put his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N, Y/N, look at me. Take a deep breath, okay?” 

You complied, trying to slow your breathing. 

“Focus on me, alright? Look at me. We are not going to get caught. I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

You slowly nodded.

“I know, but that’s you. I don’t think I can do this. Can’t you do it for me? Please?”

He shook his head. “He’s not my kind of victim, Y/N. He’s yours. Remember why you came here. Remember that just below our feet is the blood of dogs he let get slaughtered. Dogs he didn’t even care about.  Just a means to an end, a pay day. He doesn’t care that an animal gets hurt, he definitely wouldn't care that a human would get hurt. Remember the anger that drove you here. People like him won’t even get a few years in jail. He’ll just come back out and do it all again, just a different place.”

You nodded, listening, tears still threatening to spill over. “I know, but I’ve never just taken a life in cold blood like this.” 

He moved his hands from your shoulder to your face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His face just a few inches from yours as he spoke softly.

“It’s either we let him go, and he continues to kill innocent dogs, like the dogs we found in cages -- scared, starving, unhealthy… Or we can end his reign of terror now. No one will miss him. No one will mourn him. But you, you’ll be a hero to those dogs, and you’ll prevent further animal blood shed.”

Your breathing was finally evening out. He was right.

You could just let this piece of shit go.

Or you could do what you’d always wanted to do with one of these sonsabitches. 

That’s all you needed before you took a deep breath, picked up the ice picks again, and gouged them deep into Angel’s neck. You closed your eyes, keeping your hands on the handles as you turned your head. He twitched a little bit before finally going lifeless beneath you, and you let go, backing up a step, your breathing shaky. 

“You okay?” Dexter asked, his voice cautious as he put a hand on your shoulder and assessed you.

“Yeah, no, i’m good. I’m fine.” You nodded, trying to back up your uneasy voice. 

He nodded, gently saying, “Okay, I’m going to do what I do. Alright? You think you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you, for helping me,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder before turning around. 

Dexter waited just a moment, to monitor you, to make sure you were honestly okay before he started up his saw, and began his work. The noise still sickened you, but you couldn’t find a way to feel bad or sad or remorseful for this horrible man not being here. He didn’t shed a tear for the innocent dog’s lives he brutally ended, why should you shed a tear for his? 

----------------------

Dex got the body parts in the bag, loaded into the car, and you two drove to his boat at the marina. He helped you in once you two got the parts put on the boat. Silently, you drove out to his spot, and pushed the bags overboard before collapsing back onto the bench seat on his boat. 

Dexter sat across from you, his elbows on his knees.

“Hey, you gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine, Dex, stop asking,” you assured, your voice only half confident. 

He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re golden. I’m glad to know you’re as fucked up as I am. Taking a life and not batting an eye.”

Your eyes slid to him as a bitch face settled over you. “I’m not saying it doesn’t affect me, but what do you want me to do? Fall to pieces?”

“No, but I want you to process this.”

“I… killed a man.”

“Yes.” 

“All by myself.”

“Right, and how do you feel? Happy, elated, nervous, regretful…?”

“I feel...free. I feel release.” 

“Really?” he asked, sitting back, taken aback. 

“Yeah, why, does that shock you?” 

“A little, yeah. I thought only someone like me might feel that way.”

You laughed, scoffing a little. “Uh, no. Believe it or not, I’ve wanted to scratch this itch for years.”

He gaped at you. “Years?”

A nod was your response. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t feel this way when I started the FBI. Sure, I wanted to beat the shit out of people like Angel, but kill them… nah. Criminals that were hurting innocent women and families and stuff, it got to me, I wanted to hurt them… But when we really started to put our noses to the grind, and year after year I was watching criminal after criminal get released from jail for stupid ass reasons, I was just itching to sit outside the jail and pick them off, you know?”

“Somewhat, yes.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m a villain. I bet in someone’s story, I am. I don’t think I’m a hero, maybe just an anti-hero.” 

“Still has hero in the name,” he noted with a half smile.

You returned a weak smile. “I don’t know. I don’t regret doing what I did, I feel like I’m doing the right thing, but I feel so… skeevy about it… I don’t know.” You let your head hang, thinking, wondering why you felt somehow bittersweet.

Angel was gone. Dogs were safe from him. You got your vengeance. 

But, you were turning your back on your training, your friends, your husband...

Dexter nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’m kind of proud of you for doing this.”

You glanced up at him. 

“I know you probably aren’t seeking a serial killer’s approval, but you held your convictions, and I think that’s… admirable. Y/N, you aren’t like me. I have these urges, no matter what, Harry just happened to help me make them somewhat useful for the world. So we picked targets no one would miss, that this world didn’t need. But you, you’re finding bad people and making this world a better place because you want to.”

“Ah, murder by choice, not by trade,” you shot, a little annoyed. 

He thought for a moment. He understood you were probably toying with your humanity, wondering if you were just as bad as the people you were taking out, and he wanted to take that worry away. 

“What does your oath say?”

“What?”

“For the FBI, what’s the vow you took, when you were sworn in?”

“Do we really have to--”

“Just do it,” he ordered firmly. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “I , Y/N, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

“And that’s what you’ve done tonight. All you did was uphold your oath. No one else got hurt. No one innocent, but someone that was an enemy of the state.” 

A slight smile pulled at your lips finally.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. And I’m not here to support you killing because m supporting you doesn’t satisfy my urges, and you don’t go after my sort of victim. I think you are honestly doing society a great justice.”

“Well thank you, Dex,” you sweetly said. “I appreciate that.”

“Sure thing. Any time.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Clear Answer

Orc x reader Request: An orc chiefs son come into the readers tavern and asks her to marry him and shes like ‘ehhh wait till im sober’. Please work your magic When the group of orcs walked into your tavern, laughing and pushing each other despite the wounds on their skin, you knew it had been a successful hunt. They were common visitors and you didn’t mind them at all. In fact, you looked forward to their drinking nights since those seemed to be the nights you were harassed or mistreated the least. If someone was acting up, they were there, making sure you were okay and safe. You found it so sweet, because they didn’t have to and you could handle situation on your own (as you had proven many times) but it was nice knowing they were there. Your little tavern wasn’t truly your own. It was your brothers, but had had some other taverns strewed about the land, and asked you to take over running this one. You didn’t mind, because he had a wife and children so he was certainly in high demand. It allowed him to spent time with his family and bring them to visit you more often. you had a few members of staff who helped you in the winter time, of course. There was Axil and Aryn, two goblins in their early twenties who worked in the back and doing cleaning and cooking. They were hard workers whos parents lived in the town. You always made sure that if their mother and father came in, you gave a nice discount. Sally was the only other human in here, working as your ‘assistant’ which really translated to you asking her to pour pints or collect glasses when you were too busy. She was a sweet if somewhat ditzy girl, her mind always racing away from her. But she was nice company and you considered her a very close friend. The final member of your little family was Markus, who mainly dealt with maintenance. He was an orc and the main reason the group of orcs started coming here. He didn’t want join the hunting party of his tribe, because he had an issue with his right ear which was partly deaf. The tribe hunted dangerous animals, like bears, dire wolfs and even the odd small dragon. Not being able to hear properly would be fatal. They had offered him a chance, but after he nearly got attacked when a bear crept up on him, he decided it wasn’t for him. Markus had been looking for a job when you took over. No one would hire him despite obviously having experience and knowledge of many things. You had been the only one willing to give him a chance, and he was incredibly grateful. You found out that his tribe lived a mile or so from the village and there was about 40 of them. Thankfully, the group of his brothers and friends who visited were only seven. You didn’t think you could handle all of them. While they were lovely to deal with, they could be loud and boisterous. especially after a hunt. “the normal?” you mouthed over to the leader of their group, Taugh. He nodded, a smirk playing on his lips because you knew exactly what they would order. You set to work pouring the drinks and placing them on a tray to carry over. You knew Taugh was the natural leader of the group of friends because he was the chiefs son, the middle child of 3. However, his older brother had a family, and didn’t join the group for celebratory drinks after a kill. The youngest, Dul, did. The rest of the group consisted of Markus’ two brothers, Narod and Ulag, twins who were known for a mischievous streak that their older brother seemed to lack. Gat, the smallest of the orcs but that certainly didn’t mean he was tiny. Even he towered over you but, from what you heard, he was a great scout. Tarfu seemed to be Gats cousin, but you weren’t entirely sure since most of the tribe considered each other family. Lastly were Matuk and Urgan, whos mothers were close friends and they considered each other brothers despite no blood relation. But of all the group, Taugh was the one who constantly had you attention. He was tall, even for an orc, standing at 7 and a half foot tall at least. He had numerous tattoos that decorated his muscles arms along with scars. He had back dreadlocks which were normally pulled back in a pony tail, revealing that he was missing the top part of one of his ears. But he had these deep green eyes which seemed to bewitch you in the most captivating way. His right eye had a horizontal scar that he had received from a dire wolf swiping at him, just catching the flesh and no more. His tusks had two carvings in each one. You had found out from Markus that they were signs of his fathers right to rule the tribe along with one being for his time in battle. When you looked at Markus with wide eyes, he explained that a few years before you had came here, there had been a war between his tribe and another, which had rose to a fight. When his eldest brother was wounded, Taugh had stepped into his place and lead the orcs to victory. from that moment, you looked at Taugh differently. Lifting the tray, you carried it to their table. “he’ll be finished soon.” You smile, nodding your head to the kitchen area where Markus was helping Axil with prep for tomorrow. You handed out the drinks to the delight of the group, who were quick to dive into the alcohol. “Successful hunt?” “very! Two bears and a giant serpent!” Matuk was eager to tell you. Your eyes widened as your mouth opened. “A serpent? How big? I haven’t heard of any being close to here.” You fretted because they were easy to miss if you weren’t looking right, and were incredibly dangerous. “About 15 feet!” Matuk reached out his hands, nearly smacking both Urgan and Dul in the face. “But you don’t need to worry, we wont let ‘em get to you. right Taugh?” Narod winked at leader who sat on the end of the table. “Never.” He nodded once to his friend but seemed to be glaring at him before he looked at you. “You’re sweet.” You giggle, shaking your head at the guys before going back to the bar and calling to Markus. He came out of the kitchen. “You’d better join them.” You nod to the group who called out his name when he came in. “Ive still got some work, though.” He glanced over his shoulder, but you saw he really did want to join his friends. “no, last time you fell behind on drinks, they made you catch up by chugging half my bar.” You crossed your arms. “I don’t remember that!” Markus said. “Exactly!” You emphasised as the group behind you laughed at the memory of Markus drinking beers like they were shots. Markus nodded at you before going to join his friends. You soon sent home Sally and Axil, leaving the tavern empty apart from you and the orcs. You found that Sally had left her coins for the night. Her mother was ill at the moment and she got medicine for her every morning so she would need them. “I need to go to Sally’s and give her something. If I close up the tavern with you guys inside, you promise not to drink me out of house and home?” You asked, slipping the coins into your bag. “of course.” Markus smiled as you gave him your spare key in case they needed to get out before you got back. You were back within an hour or so, after Sally had hugged you and declared you her life savour. Much to your delight, you saw your tavern was still standing. You unlocked the door and slipped inside, locking it behind you. You would probably just go up to bed since you had an apartment on the second floor. But the second you entered, you were waved over to the table of orcs who insisted you drink with them. Before you knew what was happening, you were pulling over a chair to the booth they had taken over. You didn’t mind it at all, despite your reluctantly to join. They were certainly funny to watch and listen to. Either they were making fun of each other, or were telling embarrassing stories about each other to make you laugh. Soon, the whole group had passed out from drinking too much apart for you and Taugh. “Why did you never marry?” Taugh asks you, cocking his head to the side as he looked at you. Truth be told, this question wasn’t out of the blue. You had just been speaking about very personal things such as your relationship with your brother and his own with his brother. “I don’t know. I never met the right one.” You shrug, looking down into your cup and swirling the liquid that was left. It was barely a mouth full, but you knew when you finished it, you would need to go up to bed. The group could stay here the night until they woke. It had happened a few times and you didn’t mind. They would be gone when the first light came through your taverns windows. “What would the ‘right’ one have to do to win your hand?” He asked, his voice low as if he was scared the others might wake and start to mock him. “He would have to be sweet and loving.” You lean forward and resting your elbow on the table as you prop up your head on your palm. “Fearless, faithful. Care about family and maybe bring me the odd gift.” “I could be that.” Taugh suddenly says to you, making you look at him. He seemed to have tensed up in the last few moments. “You could?” You giggle, leaning backwards against his arm. He took the opportunity to slip his arm around your waist and pull you against his side. He turned so he could face you. As if in some desperate attempt to prove something to you, he ducked his head down and pressed his lips against yours. He was carful with his tusks as the grazed against your cheeks but were wide enough that you didn’t have any issues. His lips were slightly rough but were warm and welcoming nonetheless. You raised your hand, running it over his cheek and feeling the slight indents of where scars were. Taugh shivers at your touch, or perhaps if was the fact you were kissing him back. Not only that, but you moved as close to him as you could. He could feel your small body pressed up against his own. His arms engulfed you, making you feel safe and secure in his embrace. A soft moan left your throat which was answered by a low growl from his own. You needed to pull away soon, otherwise you were going to drag him up to your room. Not that that would be a bad idea, but the town was small and word spread easily. The idea of you courting and being romantically interested in the orc chief’s son was not one which would cause an issue. But you falling into bed with him in a drunken night would certainly cause the town to raise their eyebrows at you, and even at the people who worked for you. You couldn’t have that. Pulling back, you hated yourself as you looked up at saw Taugh was staring down at you with the most intense gaze you had ever come across. He was panting slightly, and you could feel how fast his heart was hammering in his chest. “You’re drunk.” You breathed, raising any eyebrow at him. “So are you.” he counted, playing right into your trap. “Exactly.” You giggle, slipping out of his arms and standing. The only was you could describe the look on his face was to compare it to one of a kicked puppy. “Ask me in the morning, if you’re serious.” You turn and start to walk to the room which lead to the stairs to your apartment. “What will you say?” Taugh stands at the table but doesn’t follow you. you look back at him, seeing a sense desperateness in his eyes. “I think my answer is quite clear.” You smile sweetly at him before disappearing from his sight. ---time skip ------------- You came down stairs. Your head was spinning slightly, and you were slightly hung over but well rested nonetheless. You had looked out the window in your bedroom and saw the sun was high in the sky. Then the church bells announced it to be 12 o clock. It was common for you not to open till 1 on a weekday since it was dead. You quickly change and head down stairs. You would have to tidy up after last night. After all, you hadn’t exactly closed up the bar properly, so you had a lot of work ahead of you. Going downstairs, you walk into the bar only to jump and nearly scream. Sitting at one of the tables was Taugh. It wasn’t because he was there, b ut just because you weren’t expecting anyone. The orcs normally left long before you could even wake, so he must have been waiting for a while. The memories of the kiss from the night before came flooding back to you, along with what was said. Taugh must have heard you come in as he looked over his shoulder at you, a small smile on his lips. “Head ache?” he asks, his voice sounding like he had seen better days. He looked tired, but that could just be from the low lighting in the tavern. You had made sure all the curtains were pulled before you left to give Sally her money. “A little. You?” You walk over and sit in the chair opposite him. The orcs were gone, and their booth was clean which you were grateful for. Taugh had taken one of the smaller tables in the tavern which only had room for you two. “No, of course not.” He puffed out his chest, seemingly slightly offended by the thought that mere alcohol could cause him any sort of harm. It made you giggle to yourself and you saw him relax and smile at you. “I didn’t expect you to still be here.” You nod to the table where he had been sitting last night. “I can leave if-“ Taugh stands, taking your indication of his presences as a signal to leave. But you shake your head. “You, please sit.” You hold our your hands to stop him from leaving and he slides back into his seat. “Why did you stay?” “You said to ask you again when we were sober.” He looks away from you, and you swore you could see the faint hint of pink in his cheeks. “I did.” You nod, unable to stop your own cheeks from exploding. “I wanted to wait till…” Taugh trails off, looking towards a window which normally overlooked he bustling town. “till?” you tried to prompt him. You were growing more and more anxious. “its orcish tradition to give an intended a symbol of courtship.” Taugh tells you this like you were only speaking about traditions rather than where this conversation seemed to be heading. “A symbol? Like a present?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. “Yes. Yours is not done yet.” He doesn’t look at you, instead staring at the curtain. “mine?” Your voice goes a little higher than expected as you raise your eyebrows at him. “Yes, a serpent skin coin holder.” He nods, looking back to you for a brief moment. “Serpent? Taugh, you shouldn’t have done that. you should sell the skin. Its worth so much!” You stand up, freighting a little. “Do you not want a courting gift?” he frowns, now concerned. “from you, yes. But that’s too much. I’m not even worth that much.” You explain as Taugh gets to his feet and walks round the table. “You’re worth so much more to me than serpent skin.” He breaths as he looks down at you with that same look from last night. The one that made you feel like you were his entire world in that one moment. You couldn’t help the shy smile that spread over your features as you look down, the pink in your cheeks showing. “You said you’d give me an answer.” His voice makes you look back to him. “I thought I made my answer quite clear.” You smile, reaching out and placing your hands on his shoulders. A soft smirk played on his lips as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing against him as his own arms engulfed you. You could certainly get use to this.

Fears, Love & Being a Man

I can remember growing up with a strong single mother, and my childhood wasn’t the most perfect but it’s was good and I never went without. In fact a story I always remind my mom of is when I was in 4th grade I think. I remember it was a Friday and we were circled around making fun of one another. Our clothes. Shoes, everything. I said to my friends I’m getting the new Jordan’s. And I will have them on Monday! Now my mom made good honest money as a single mom but she didn’t have Jordan money and plus we already went school shopping months ago and I had my sneakers for the year. But i told her I needed them. My mom asked me do you want these or do you need them? I didn’t hesitate “Need mom” and that was that. To this day, I’m not sure how she did it but we went to foot locker and she bought them for me. Monday morning came around and I was the talk of the 4th grade class. Every kid was in awe and I might as well have been carried on the shoulders of my class at recess. The point being is that’s something that to this day has shaped my outlook on a small part of the world. So mom if I decide to share this with you, thanks and thanks for being a great mom.

Now, before my son came and during those 9 months and to this day as a Dad there are countless things that race through your head. I hope he’s healthy, you go back and forth I hope he has my athletic ability, his mothers book smarts, my charm, knowing his left from rights. (His mom still makes the L, and at times I see my son get those mixed up) but I laugh because as much as you are your own person your parents shape you in a sense. They teach you right from wrong, don’t touch a stove, what love is and how to be a man or woman. The part about love isn’t so much about telling you what it is but showing love and leading by example. I remember when me and your mother split The number one priority to me was to never speak ill of your mother and only to speak kind of her in front of you always. I would never take your view of your mom from you. You see, growing up my Dad wasn’t a man in this sense. He put me in a lot of situations as a young kid that as a Father I should never have memories of. But on the flip side I know what not to do. I always overheard him speaking ill of my mom telling me to my face nasty things about her, she was keeping me from him. Who’s side of this imaginary war I was on. I remember that despite the nastiness and messed up things he said to me about her or just various examples of not being a man let alone a father. My mother never spoke ill of him, and she never did the things he said she does. That stuck with me that actions will always show through and truth and someone’s heart will be easy to identify. I want you to know this because part of being a man is shielding you from the bad and protecting your innocence and how you view the world. That’s why as much as I swear in real life I do my absolute best to not use bad words. I catch myself slipping at times. Grandma gave me a lecture because apparently you have been saying scumbag. Whoops! I will do better. It’s all you can do each day is think how you can do better as a father the next day. These are small examples of lessons I learned growing up and silent promises I made to myself to do differently if and when I ever became a father. The day you came into this world healthy, and a blessing to your mother and I, I experienced love for the first time. I mean I had always heard what love was you see it in sappy movies, your grandparents who set the standard of staying together for 50 years or more, and through music. When I held you that first time straight from the nurse my heart changed. Later that first night your mom needed some rest and you couldn’t get to sleep. I pulled out my phone and sang you your song: “Peaches and Cream” by John Butler Trio. And I put my hand on your chest and you fell fast asleep. Till this day, I sing it to you before bed and still place my hand on your heart. When you get older, I won’t be able to do that anymore. I felt something unlock in my heart and I literally was different. A rush of emotions overcame me tears of joy, dad strength (you get this power the first day you become a father) the sense to protect you your whole life, and to give my life or limb for you so you can live on or have better in the event your dealt a raw hand. I remember when you had to get glasses. Your right eye wasn’t as strong and before we found out that glasses will fix that, the doctor mentioned surgery. I felt absolutely sick. Something that was beyond my control but impacting you made me feel so helpless. Now i laugh as it was only glasses and eventually you will have contacts. But I remember saying to the doctor if need be He could take my eye. I had seen enough stuff in my life time and wanted you to have the same. The doctor laughed and was taken a back by my seriousness and assured me it was only glasses and you will be just fine. But the offer still stands kiddo.

I won’t always be around, someday I will be an old man and I want to leave you with some rules to live by and lessons that I am currently instilling in you as you grow. No matter how grown you become always show love to your mother, even when your friends are around. Just like grandma tells you about how I always gave my mom a kiss on the cheek all through high school and to this day. Never be embarrassed you love your mother, you only get one. Love God and know right from wrong. Always be respectful to women and open doors for them. Say please and thank you, clean up after yourself. If someone else cooks you clean up. Always leave the land when hunting better than how you found it. Treat the janitor the same as the CEO, always look a man in the eye especially when shaking hands. Also, strong handshakes when you meet someone. Never compromise your integrity for anyone or anything. Once you lose integrity you might never gain it back. Love deeply, sing the words to songs wrong as long as you are having fun who cares. Be kind, and compassionate. Don’t be afraid to share emotions, or cry. Some women like a man that can be sensitive and it shows a vulnerability in you. Your word is your bond. If you say something or make a commitment follow through on this. Pet dogs and be kind to animals. (I always tell you to give Ivy girl extra tummy rubs) if you start something sports, or a job related finish what you started. You don’t have to do it again if you don’t like it, but don’t quit. Provide for your family and be an example to others. Work hard in everything you do. Know how to change a tire, shoot a Gun, harvest a deer. Tip well, Put others ahead of yourself, but don’t be afraid to treat yourself also. Don’t forget to pray, and have faith when times are tough. Listen first and then talk, do the small things in life and in relationships and many more that I will try to pass down to you. But i hope when you read this it will bring back some of these lessons and you will smile and remember me fondly. You inspire me everyday, and push me to be the best possible version of myself and I hope I’m making you proud. I pray someday when you are a man and hopefully a father you do better than I did but you tell your son or daughter what a good father I was. Just like when I look at you when you play baseball or sports and you are looking for me to be proud. I hope you see I have that same look when I’m looking at you and you are proud to call me Dad. So, just like at bedtime after we say our prayers and I sing your song, tuck you in, and we do our pinky swear. The last thing I do is I hold your hand and give it three squeezes and you squeeze back twice.

Well, SQUEEZE,SQUEEZE,SQUEEZE

The Shine Of Scales In The Night - Or: Humanity’s Abyss

One of the coolest, most awesome people in the world has finished another run around the hot gas ball in the vast emptiness of space and I felt like taking up an old prompt they gave me ages ago. Without further ado, @tigerthealien HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

No one ever returned from the mouth of the river. It was common knowledge not to walk beyond the griffin head-shaped cliff from which the river tumbled into its bed at the bottom before it continued to flow towards the glistening sea. The swirls and currents the motion created between river and sea made the water salty; not quite salty enough to kill but unbearable enough on human tongues. The spot was not mentioned in the village beyond the cliff and the people were careful to get their water at a safe spot before it tumbled over the edge, mixing with the sea and losing its fresh taste.

It was a spot abandoned by birds and animals, the plants surrounding it were lyme grass and fox flowers that had gradually found its way to the river banks. The flora mirrored the surroundings, taking to the circumstances and adapting accordingly. The emptiness of nature around the pool between the sharp rocks that made up its boundaries emphasised the dead silence that held a tight grasp around it.

Disturbing the peaceful waters, so the villagers believed, conjured an evil spirit, devoted to the protection of the pool. It was the reason for any disappearances, any illnesses that overcame the village, untimely death of children and responsible for any immorality and sin committed in the community. The elders had given the shadow a name and the legend was told in hushed voices, evidence given in dark corners and token of good luck sold to travellers and locals alike.

The few who were not scared off by the stories of sightings of description of the beast, thought again once they had been taken to the rows of tombstones in the graveyard, each one dedicated to one that had tried to seek out the spirit, each one buried after their corpse washed on shore in a bay on the other side of the village. The villagers dedicated a tombstone to them, engraved it with a warning for others and held a mass on their behalf before gathering at the inn to drink on a memory they did not share and listen to more stories of the spirit’s bloodlust, told by the elders.

One morning, just as the gates were opened and the first trader and farmers entered the village to set up their market stalls, the children walked towards the school, and the men unlocked their workshops and stores, a dark horse was seen trotting onto the market place. The rider sat hunched over in the saddle, armour dull and battered, with deep scrapes and kinks in the metal, the indicator of an eventful life. Wives stopped to look at the tall figure and watched as it demounted in front of the tavern. The armour made no sound despite the metal plates and pieces knocking together. The eery silence sounded as a song, lamenting the loss of something the villagers could not understand. They watched as the rider led the horse towards the stables, briefly spoke to the stable boy and gave him a few coins before handing over the reins. He still wore his helmet when he entered the inn.

The gossiping villagers returned to their daily tasks and work eventually, reluctantly as they busied themselves. Every now and then, eyes found the inn’s door and remained there for a moment before they moved on, as if they had been caught doing something forbidden.

The rider left the inn again in the afternoon, helmet covering his face, hands gloved and armour adjusted in place. His sword sat tightly fixed to his hip, causing whispers around the market square. It gleamed in the pale sun light.

He had the stable boy get his saddled horse, mounted it and left the village again. The gatekeeper was the last person to look after him. For a moment, everybody stood rooted to the spot. Then, the mob ran to find the innkeeper to enquire about the new arrival.

All the innkeeper could report, however, was that the knight had demanded a room, food and care for the horse before retreating to his room and coming down mere moments earlier. He had not answered, the eager innkeeper reported, when he asked where he was heading.

The inn was packed that evening; men, women and children stood crowded around the counter, trying to spot whoever entered through the front door. One of the youngest children, a girl hardly older than four years, asked her mother why everybody had gathered and was told that travelling knights never brought any good with them, the newest arrival being no exception.

‘But why?’ the child demanded to know.

‘Because the spirit doesn’t take kindly to intruders,’ the mother answered, squeezing her daughter’s arm, too tight, making the child cry, ‘it will decide to get rid of us, too, if we allow trespassers to go to the forbidden pool.’

The girl hid her face in the mother’s shoulder, sniffling quietly as the tension grew with every passing minute. The Elders sat huddled together at one table, conversing about important things that no other could hear. A few of the young men tried to best each other throwing darts under the watchful eyes of the young women, drinking from tankards taller than their hands. Near the fireplace, a group of musicians played a melody speaking of love and loss, the warmth of home and safety of the fireplace.

A cold gust of wind made the candle flames flicker. The door had been pushed open and the knight stepped over the threshold, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His helmet covered everything except his eyes and they shone in the dark of the entrance. He moved through the crowds towards the counter and barked an order at the innkeeper. A tankard of ale in his hand, he pushed towards the back off the room, past the Elders, the darts board and flock of young girls.

The wooden bank squeaked as he sat down, the sound being the only thing audible in the room. Heads had turned, eyes followed him and whispered conversations stopped mid-word. A heavy hand dropped on the table, leather squeaked as gloved fingers grabbed the tankard.

Then, one of the Elders pushed his chair back, got up and moved towards him. The villagers reverently moved aside, allowing him to pass through their bulk.

‘Stranger,’ he greeted the knight, ‘welcome in our community. What leads you here?’

The rider tilted his head, dark eyes glistening in their deep sockets in the shade underneath the helmet, ‘Thank you for the warm welcome. My aims and destinations, however, are mine to deal with.’

‘Are you planning on seeking out something specific?’

The knight turned and seemed to look around, ‘Heard a rumour, wanted to follow up on it.’

The Eldest inhaled sharply, ‘I truly have to advise you not to follow up on it. No good ever comes from rumours, that is well-known. We are determined to keep you out of harm’s way.’

‘You can try,’ the knight lifted the tankard, ‘yet I am determined. And you sound like you are threatening me.’

‘No human has ever returned from the pool, we are not going to allow you to –‘

‘Your sword is shiny,’ the small girl had slipped out of her mother’s grip and made her way over until she stood next to the knight, ‘why?’

The knight seemed to stop and halt for a motion, ‘It is sharp. I need to look after it.’

‘Nothing else is shiny.’

A sound escaped the darkness under the helmet, a sound resembling a chuckle, ‘You are a smart one, aren’t you? Armour protects you, no matter the state. A sword needs work and caring to stay sharp. Are you interested in my sword, young lady?’

The girl giggled and nodded, ‘Mum says it’s dangerous.’

‘No, not when you know what you are doing, little lady,’ the knight loosened the strap holding the helmet in place and pushed it up over his face.

Revealing a face that did not match what every single villager had made up to be the expected. The elders jumped up, righteous anger and disgust on their faces. Men spilled their drinks, women gasped and the kids stopped playing under the tables.

‘A woman! A disgrace! Dishonour!’ The cry reverberated from the walls, sniping and cutting, being repeated in every mouth. The knight, hand tight around her sword’s pommel, let it happen. If anything betrayed the collected expression she showed, it was her twitching eye lid as she looked around the room.

The Elders led the parade of angry villagers past her. Spitting into her face and threatening to set the dogs on her seemed not to touch her. Her face remained unchanged, a mask, motionless as if cast in iron. Only, when the kids were pulled away from her and the little girl was treated harshly enough to make her cry again, she got up, took her helmet and left the inn without another word. The villagers followed her, outraged by the audacity to keep her cool and not react to the insults and slurs yelled after her.

‘Get lost!’

‘Drop dead!’

‘Unnatural bitch!’

‘Get yourself killed!’

Some of the younger kids, hiding behind their mothers’ skirts and a few of the young women stared after the rider with something resembling sadness in their eyes. The Elders were quick to usher the people back into the inn, one already beginning the tale of the handsome hunter determined to catch the evil spirit, and how he died. Only the Eldest stayed outside in the onset of a dark night and followed the knight, giving her the exact location to the forbidden pool. His face and eyes betrayed the hatred he wished to conceal but the rider got on her horse and left him in the mud they whirled up as they galloped out the gates.

***

Despite the warnings and gruesome stories, the first sight of the forbidden pool, long before the long climb down the cliff began, was one to behold. No matter whether sun shine, rain or night time, the pool with its lively surface and wild waters seemed to shine with fallen starlight. Its glimmering waves transported a warm shine towards the sea where it bled into the current.

The horse refused to set a single hoof on the narrow path leading down to the riverbed. The rider dismounted and took the saddle of the trusty steed’s back, smoothing down the fur and whispering a few words in its ears. The mare huffed and began to graze. The rider stayed with it a moment, stroking its neck. Then, she took her sparse belongings from where they had been attached to the saddle, shouldered them and set out to climb down to the moonlit pool.

The rubble under her feet told the story of attempted descends, the sander marks spoke of unsuccessful attempts and the broken branches on the trees lining the path made all too clear where prior fighters had tried to hold on for just a moment, a moment of safety before they plunged to their deaths.

The knight steered clear of the trees, the beaten tracks and loose stones. She made her way down the cliff, sticking to where her own feet guided her instead of following the trail others had made. Her sword dragged over a few smaller stones, upsetting their balance and sending them over the edge. She could hear them hit the ground and rolling into the riverbed with a small splash.

The closer she got the waterfall, the stronger she felt the cool spray on her face. Water, drifting on the wind, caressing her skin and following the hard lines of an expression that did not know a soft touch. She did not wipe it away, let it pool under her eyes until drop after drop slid towards the corners of her mouth, almost like tears.

And then, just as her legs and knees began to tremble with exhaustion and the constant danger of slipping and falling, her feet hit even ground, sandy soil giving way under her boots. She breathed a sigh of release, stumbling a little as her legs gave in. Her hands managed to catch her weight as she collapsed, a mere stone’s throw from the riverbank.

The water gurgled, unaffected by the sunk down figure on its banks. It flowed, unfazed by her shallow breaths, over the cliff and plunged into the pool of shining stars and moon light, rolled and stomped with the force of the feral sea that licked into the freshwater, drawn in by the uncommon movement. It entangled between the mossy rocks that lined the pool, salty sea wedding the fresh, pure water coming from the mountains to the banks. As the swirls mixed and sweet, fresh water turned salty and lost its refreshing taste.

The moon watched as the newly created water as it made its way towards the sea, singing its song of what it had seen and experienced. Drops jumping out of the bed cheered; shattering against the dark soil they betrayed the taciturn waters and let out their tale of the knight at the pool. They did not stay around to see what followed their talkativeness.

Their song and chatter reached the ears of a being, swimming up and down along the coast, waiting for the tides to allow it to swim inland. A single soft splashing of water gave away its position just underneath the surface, a gleaming tail flicking. It watched the river mouth, ready to use the first opportunity to go and see for itself what the twaddling waters had been talking about.

***

The water’s sad song, unheard through the lapping of the river, nothing more than a whisper was the first thing she heard when she opened her eyes. It was still dark around her with nothing but the moonlight allowing a little clarity. She pushed herself up on her hands, shaking her head to get rid of the fogginess in her brain.

Something had changed, she felt. The pool’s brawl had died down a little, a mere ambient noise, not the roaring waterfall that had dominated her descent.

‘You are alive.’

She groaned and rolled around on the hard floor. A small sound behind her made her look around but the churning surface of the pool was nothing more than that, gleaming water splashing up, licking at the rocks.

‘Who are you?’

It sounded like the gurgling of water, as if the person spoke through a mouthful of liquid. The knight scrambled to her feet, hand around the handle of her sword.

‘Who’s there?’

‘Didn’t they warn you? I am a rumour. A whisper. A bad dream,’ the voice replied, giggling against the water, ‘No one ever comes to see me anymore. It gets so boring and lonely out here and the waves stop talking to me after some time.’

The knight still peered into the pool trying to make out where the voice came from. She pulled the sword out of its sheath, pointing it at the water.

‘This is stupid,’ she pressed through her teeth, ‘what am I doing, fighting water?’

‘It’s shiny,’ the voice came closer, water lapped over a stone, ‘I like shiny things.’

‘You and me both,’ the knight stepped closer to the shore, ‘now show yourself.’

‘I don’t know if I want to. You were lucky the tides pressed out of the stream and I couldn’t get back before. I would have started singing the moment you stepped onto the path. And what a shame it would have been.’

‘Are you checking me out?’ The knight looked around, ‘this is hardly fair.’

‘I’ll give you that,’ the water parted and something peeked up above the bank, ‘hello. Nice to meet you.’

The knight stared. Her mind was wiped clear, the sight in front of her was too much to summarise it in words.

The slender arms leaning on the dark soil shimmered wet and blue in the moon light, hair stuck in tight, dripping strands to a slim neck. For a moment, the knight thought to have seen extravagant jewellery around that neck, then it hit her.

‘You have gills!’ She dropped her sword, knelt in front of the creature and got closer to its face, ‘do you have a tail, too?’

Water hit her face as something splashed behind the shape in the pool, ‘I do. Do you want to see it?’

The knight nodded and sat down properly at the edge, ‘May I? This is truly exciting, if you forgive the honesty. I have never met a cryptid before.’

Gargling laughter was the answer. The knight followed every slow move the creature made until it had swum into the middle of the pool and turned on its back. Its tail flicked from one side to the other, lazily moving as if it was treading water.

‘It looks amazing,’ the knight let her gaze linger on the shining scales.

A blue shimmer radiated from the whole length of the finned tail, a shimmer that followed darker patches on the gleaming surface of the palm sized scales. It looked like there were stripes embedded under the protective layer, stripes in a colour that resembled black more than anything else – and yet, the tail glowed in the dark of the pool. The knight felt a shiver run down her spine.

‘You are beautiful,’ she breathed, ‘thank you for showing me. My mother always told me about your kind – she lived close to the sea and a whole flock of them were always close by. She told me one day I would find them again so I followed the whispers and rumours.’

‘You wittingly found my kind? We kill the humans we find, we sing them a lullaby and drown them,’ the creature returned, pointy ears twitching like an attentive dog’s.

‘You are a cryptid, the humans you catch are the ones that do not respect that you have been around for so much longer than us,’ the knight smiled carefully, ‘why are you here? My mother always made it sound like you were gregarious?’

‘The others are, I got excluded from the pack. I don’t fit.’

‘I know what that feels like,’ the knight sighed, ‘we have that in common.’

‘How do you not fit? You look like a normal biped to me. Maybe a little prettier than the ones that came here before.’

‘Thank you,’ the knight leant back to hide her blush in the darkness of the night, ‘but I am a disgrace to humankind. Wherever I go, I get driven away when they see what I am. I figured, chasing shadows would make more sense than something humans could never give me.’

‘I cannot breathe underwater,’ the creature swam closer to the edge, ‘at least not properly. I need to stay close to the surface and the coast, otherwise I’m at risk of drowning. It breaks my heart every time I try to get out there because I think something changed and I could re-join my family.’

‘I’m sorry,’ the knight started to take off her armour, one piece and pauldron after the other, ‘that must hurt you. Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘You are nice,’ the mellow voice came closer, velvety soft and musical, ‘but you can’t change the fact that my gills and lungs don’t work the way they should. I try to enjoy what little I can when I feel strong enough for a proper swim but I need to return to the pool before the tide locks me out and I have to tread water. I love the way water parts for you, the way it swirls around my tail. I love how my hair moves in the water like its one with the currents and how cool it is against my skin when it is wet. I love how quiet it is under the surface and how violent water can be, but also how gentle…’

The knight finished taking off her armour and crossed her legs, ‘No wonder you sing for the men who try and catch you.’

‘I could still sing for you, if you decided to use the shiny thing,’ the slender arms reappeared on the riverbank, ‘I’ll take that risk.’

The knight smiled, ‘I’m not going to use my sword. I promise. Do you have a name?’

Water hit her in the face, the creature disappeared under the surface and came back up a moment later, gasping for air, ‘I do! But no one ever asks for it because no one cares.’

‘I care,’ the knight lifted her arm, ‘so, what is your name?’

‘Tiger shark,’ a hand was held out the water, ‘I extend you a biped greeting. If you were a merperson, I would insist on a finbump.’

The knight chuckled and shook the hand, ‘My name is Eua. Nice to meet you, Tiger.’

They grinned at each other for a moment before settling back, Eua against the Cliffside, Tiger into the water.

‘What are you planning to do now?’ Tiger asked, blowing bubbles into the rippling waters, ‘Your quadruped is still up there.’

‘It’s fine, I’ll figure something out,’ Eua leant back, ‘for tonight, I would like to stay here – if you allow it.’

Tiger’s dark eyes blinked and her jaw dropped, ‘Of course I will, you can stay for as long as you want and need to.’

‘Thank you,’ Eua smiled, ‘I’m going to be back in a few minutes, just…getting the horse and my things.’

‘Of course,’ Tiger splashed with some water, lighting up the droplets sailing through the air, ‘I promise not to sing!’

‘Thank you,’ Eua grinned back over her shoulder, ‘to a bright future.’

Tiger waved after her with her fin, splashing up a little more water before resting her chin on her forearms. She watched as Eua climbed up the cliff, smiled to herself and started humming a small melody.

Eua perked up, ‘Hey, are you singing?’

‘Humming.’

‘Please don’t, I already don’t want to take a single step more,’ Eua yelled downhill and turned back around, ‘at least let me get my horse.’

Tiger closed her lips, allowing no further sound to escape. She waited patiently for Eua to return, waited with all the questions she had about biped habits and what they were going to do, two outcasts who found their own place in the world together. They would take on any challenge, sword and fangs ready to defend each other, no questions asked.

They just did not know yet how deep the effects would run.

it’s okay, that’s love 05

➾ water polo player!jimin x psychiatrist!reader ft ot7 ➾ warnings: smut/ mentions of sex, toxic relationships, blood and self harm, mental illnesses ➾ word count: 8.2k ➾ previous parts 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 ➾ disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction and i do not claim to be a qualified mental health professional. this work is not intended to provide any medical advice of any sort, please consult a licensed physician instead.

please read the previous parts first!! 

Taehyung never regrets things that he does. What’s the point when it only makes him feel worse about something he never should have done in the first place? Plus, he did read something online about how optimists live 5 years longer, so there’s also that. 

And Sunmi’s hair is pretty long and silky. Just the right length for him to pull as he sinks into her balls deep, although her moans are getting on his nerves. Apart from the whole commitment thing, he realises this is why he never called her back after their first time; she’s noisy as fuck even though all he’s done before this is rub his cock against her slit.

“Shhhh baby, can you keep quiet for me?” Taehyung has long ago become an expert at making anything sexy, so even telling girls to shut up has become too easy for him.

But Sunmi only arches her back further into him, trying to get him to go deeper. “Bu-but Tae, I need more, oh- you’re so big. I missed your cock so badly. 

To satisfy her, Taehyung bottoms out, effectively shutting her up because of his size. Still, he takes care not to go too hard on her, keeping her pleasure in mind as he reaches around to fondle her clit absentmindedly till he feels her walls start to flutter around him. It’s at this point that he allows himself to pound her a little harder to chase after his own high, releasing his load inside the condom before pulling out.

Sunmi is pouting as she turns around to lie on her back, and Taehyung pauses as he ties off the condom. “Why, did you not cum?”

“I did… but it would have felt so much better without a condom,” Sunmi runs her fingers through the wetness that lingers on her pussy regretfully, as if imagining his cum coating her lips and entrance.

Taehyung spares a glance towards her well used slit before pushing himself off the bed to dispose of the condom. “Sorry babe, not that into risking it.”

Sunmi is watching him as he gathers his clothes off the floor, tugging on his jeans and shirt in a record time. It’s his specialty after all.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Taehyung pauses on his way to the door, freezing with his hand halfway to the doorknob, slowly turning to face her. “What? What do you mean? Of course it fucking matters, you could get pregnant, and that’s the last thing a commitment phobe like me needs.” 

Sunmi shrugs nonchalantly, closing her legs modestly as she sits up on the bed. “You didn’t use a condom last time.”

He should just leave, this is just another attempt to stall him and keep him for longer than necessary. “That was one time, and I pulled out.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she smiles softly at him with a hand on her lower belly even as Taehyung can feel his heart turn to stone inside his chest. “It only takes one time.” 

*

The night air breeze penetrates through the flimsy flaps of the street-side stall tent. The streets are unusually cold at this time of the night, although to be fair, Seokjin’s never been out this late before. And he’s also never been as drunk as he is now, but he is considering doing it more often, since it blurs everything into a pleasant mirage of haziness, saving him the trouble of feeling everything so acutely.

He’s tired of being sober and just being alive in general.

Raising his hand, he calls out drunkenly for one more bottle of soju, to which the pleasant if slightly overbearing stall owner obliges. She places the bottle, opened and all, on his table, looking as though she’s about to tell him that he’s already had too much to drink, but then another customer distracts her.

Seokjin gratefully reaches to pour himself another shot, but before he can do so, someone else snatches the bottle from his hands, and he reacts belatedly with an angry shout.

“Hey, that’s mine you idiot, get your own fucking soju,” Seokjin means it to be intimidating, and he does consider himself a pretty intimidating guy, with his 60cm wide shoulders and all, but it apparently comes out in a drunken slur instead. The perpetrator only grins, a boxy, mischievous smirk, and gestures for a shot glass of his own before pouring for the both of them.

“You shouldn’t pour your own drink; didn’t you know that?” Taehyung knocks back his shot as soon as he sets the bottle down.

“That’s only if you’re drinking with someone else, brat, and I was drinking alone.” Seokjin snarks back as he reaches for his own glass.

“Ah, but hyung, the key word being was, past tense.” The cheeky brat has the audacity to help himself to another shot, but at this point, Seokjin is far too gone to stop him. All he’s thankful for is Taehyung’s steady hand has he continues to supply him with alcohol.

“Why’re you out drinking on a Friday night anyway? And alone too?” Taehyung picks at the leftover food on the table, sad remnants of sausages and an omelette that Seokjin can’t bring himself to finish.

“What’s wrong with drinking alone? On a Friday night?”

“Oh, y’know, nothing much… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but all the other people here are either couples or big groups.”

Seokjin pauses after knocking back another shot, feeling the burn travel down his chest in a satisfying trail. “Could ask you the same thing. Why are you here, intruding on my solo drinking session?”

“Fucked up.” Taehyung’s answer is so straightforward and to the point that it catches Seokjin off guard. His honesty elicits laughter that suddenly bubbles up from his chest and pours out from his mouth in high-pitched squeaks that draw the attention of the tables around him. Taehyung only frowns and opens his mouth to protest, but Seokjin beats him to it.

“Join the club, buddy.” He reaches for another shot, but the bottle comes up empty. Taehyung is quick to react like the good dongsaeng that he is, calling for yet another bottle. “Two of my star players injured, lost a really fucking important match that would have led to semi-professional careers for some of them, got kicked out of my apartment. Fucking swell, everything is.”

He doesn’t want to turn this into a sob story competition, so Taehyung keeps quiet and busies himself with pouring the two of them another shot each. “Can’t help you there, my friend. But-”

Seokjin reaches to hit him on the head. “You punk, I’m not your friend, who said you could speak informally?”

Taehyung easily dodges the hit, not like it was very accurate in the first place. “It’s a saying, hyung. And anyway, wouldn’t you like to know what it’s like to get fucked by something other than life?” 

“What?” Seokjin snorts in response. “If you’re offering, then no.”

“Sorry, hyung, I wouldn’t, not even for you,” Taehyung grins wryly. “You’re attractive as fuck, those shoulders really are amazing, but if you’re keen I do have some dudes who’d be into this…”

“Fuck off,” Seokjin mutters without any real heat in his voice, giving in to the urge to rest his head on the table. “Although if any of them had a place I could crash at for the night, that’d be great, I’d be willing to give up my virginity and all.”

“Not sure how much that’s worth, but I could make that happen,” Taehyung says as he peers at Seokjin’s slouched form on the table with growing concern. “Hey, I’m serious, you need a place to stay?”

No response from the older man, and Taehyung resorts to nudging his outstretched arm, but to no avail either. Great, now he’s stuck with a sleeping drunk, and he has to lug a dead weight all the way home.

This better count as arms day, leg day, whatever- for the next week or so.

*

It’s almost daylight by the time Taehyung manages to lug Seokjin back home, a testament to just how much Taehyung underestimated the older man’s weight. All he wants to do is collapse into bed and just forget everything that happened in the past 24 hours.

He manages to get the door unlocked with just one hand, and his shoulders are protesting over Seokjin’s dead weight. He lets out a curse as his foot hits a table leg in the dark, and he knocks over something that falls to the floor with a crash. Taehyung stumbles the last few steps towards the sofa and dumps Seokjin’s figure none too gently onto it, groaning as he rubs his sore muscles.

Seokjin stirs slightly at all the movement, moaning in protest as his head hits the armrest of the couch.

All the commotion has awoken someone in the house, because Taehyung hears a door opening and footsteps sounding from the hallway. He’s a hundred percent sure that it’s not Yoongi-hyung, so it must either be Jimin or-

You’re rubbing your eyes, squinting around in the dark for the light switch before flipping it on. “Tae? What’s all the noise? Did you just get back? Who-“

“Fuck, that really hurt,” Taehyung is examining his toe for damage before he glances up and follows your line of sight. “Yeah, um, I kinda picked him up off the streets-“

“Kim Taehyung, what did I tell you about picking up strays? This isn’t even an animal for fucks sake,” you take a few steps closer to peer at the sleeping figure on the couch, taking in his dishevelled appearance, wrinkled pink hoodie and faded ripped jeans. “Is- is this who I think it is? How the hell-“

Another door opens, and you stiffen immediately, whipping around to see who it is. In reality, you already know who it’s going to be, because Yoongi sleeps like the dead, and even if he were awake at this hour, he wouldn’t care enough to come out anyway.

Jimin’s hood is drawn over his head and his eyes are half open against the assault of light that fills the living room. “What’s going on here? Why is Seokjin-hyung on our couch right now?”

When his eyes land on you, he immediately straightens up, eyes opening wider than Taehyung’s ever seen before, mirroring your posture. There’s an awkward silence as the two of you awkwardly avoid each other’s gazes, both staring at the sleeping blonde man on your couch. 

“Um, look, I have no idea why the two of you are acting like you just saw each other naked, but you’d better settle it between you because I’m going the fuck to bed,” Taehyung side steps you and heads for his room. “Oh, and just give him a blanket or something, I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Taehyung talks as if Seokjin is more like an object than an actual person, but you keep your mouth shut as he disappears into his room, because he looks like he’s ready to fall asleep on his feet.

Jimin reaches for one of the spare throws that fell to the floor when Taehyung dumped Seokjin on it and drapes it over his sleeping figure. He turns back to head for his room, avoiding your gaze, but you stop him.

“Hey, um, Jimin, about last night, um…” You’ve never been this ineloquent in your life.

He turns around, cautiously meeting your eyes with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. “I’m okay with pretending it never happened, if that’s what you were going to say.”

You take a deep breath, cursing yourself for ever stepping out of your room in the first place, because it looks like you’re not going back to sleep for the rest of the night. “I was hurt, lonely, and desperate, and I took advantage of you. I was being unprofessional, and this won’t affect my ability to treat you at all. I hope we can put this behind us, and if it bothers you in the slightest, I can get someone else to continue your treatments.”

It didn’t bother me at all.

Jimin smiles sadly as he shakes his head, the thought of having someone else take over making him uncomfortable because there’s no one he trusts more than you. “It’s alright. I’m okay. Goodnight, _____. Sleep well.”

You watch him turn and head into his room, regret churning at the bottom of your stomach.

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

*

Seokjin throws an arm over the bright strip of light that just happens to land directly over his eyes. His head is pounding, nausea stirring right at the bottom of his throat, threatening to spill over if he makes any sudden movements. Where the fuck is he?

He cracks his eyes open just a tad, only to be met with the unfamiliar sight of the ceiling above him. When he cranes his neck a little, his surroundings don’t ring a bell, and he chooses to close his eyes again just to escape everything for a little while more. 

Until someone shakes him awake rudely with an iron clad grip on his arm, and Seokjin can’t help but sputter out a few curses he’s sure he never would have said if he were sober. 

“Hyung!! Wake up, it’s already past noon.” Taehyung’s insistent voice keeps him from shutting everything out and going back to sleep again.

“So? What does that have to do with me?”

“You sound like Yoongi hyung right now,” another voice comes from somewhere else, along with a chuckle and he vaguely recognises it to be Park Jimin’s. 

“Shut up brat, before I make you do extra laps,” he mutters, still half asleep as he reaches to wipe the drool from his mouth. Taehyung pushes a glass of water into his hands, and he sips gratefully.

“Do you think you’ll even make it to practice like this, hyung?”

Practice… Seokjin jolts awake and fumbles for his phone, groaning when he realises that it’s Saturday, and practice starts in less than an hour. Forcing back the wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm him, Seokjin pushes himself onto his feet, only to wobble dangerously had it not been Taehyung’s arm around his waist.

“Hey, careful, hyung you should rest, I’ll take over training for today.” All traces of teasing vanish from Jimin’s voice as he reaches out to push Seokjin back onto the couch gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll assign myself extra laps too.”

“You better, brat,” Seokjin can’t do more than grumble in what he hopes is an extra threatening manner, but the cool surface of the couch beckons to him.

“Uhh… here’s the thing…” Taehyung starts hesitantly, his arm still around Seokjin’s waist and keeping him from slouching back into a lying position. “You can’t be here, if Yoongi-hyung wakes up to find you here he’s gonna flip. He hates it when I bring strays back, and also, in terms of resident capacity, this house’s full.”

“Fucking brat, I’m not a stray,” even in his inebriated state, Seokjin knows when he’s being insulted, and he reaches over to smack Taehyung over the head, thankfully not missing this time. Although he knows he’s pretty much at Taehyung’s mercy right now, having been kicked out without a place to stay, but still. 

Lucky for him, Taehyung’s a pretty easy-going guy.

Taehyung only sighs through his nose and enlists Jimin’s help to heave the larger man off the couch (“You need to use those muscles before they go to waste”) and up the stairs towards Namjoon’s apartment.

He’s praying that Namjoon’s in right now, if you or Yoongi come back to find that he’s adopted another stray into the house, his life will be miserable indeed. His prayers are answered when the door swings open to reveal an immaculately dressed blonde man, everything from his white dress shirt to his black slacks are crisply pressed, and his hair is styled off his forehead with what looks like a lot of gel. 

“Hyung, were you about to go out? Sorry for interrupting-“

Namjoon frowns in response, his gaze travelling between Taehyung and Jimin, and the rather inebriated, sloppy looking man leaning on Jimin. “No, I wasn’t. And who’s this?”

“This is, um…” Taehyung hesitates as he takes in Namjoon’s scrutinizing gaze, and Seokjin’s dishevelled bedhead. The two look worlds apart in terms of appearance, and once again Taehyung stops to wonder if this is really a good idea.

“This is my coach!” Jimin pipes up, and Taehyung can hear the note of desperation in his voice as he desperately tries to maintain his grip on the older man. “He’s um… he kinda needs a place to stay right now, and um…”

Namjoon may be overly particular about his standards of cleanliness, but he’s not heartless. So when he sees Jimin struggling to maintain his balance under the older man’s weight, he heaves a sigh and beckons them in, wincing as he imagines every single step that they take across his perfectly polished wooden floors.

Jimin dumps Seokjin’s weight onto the couch much like Taehyung did the night before, and makes sure to complain extra loudly that he won’t be able to do his reps later on at gym. While Namjoon is trying his best not to immediately want to scrub every surface they’ve touched or even breathed on, Taehyung notices his distress and turns to him.

“Hyung, remember what we worked on in our sessions okay? This’ll be good for you, I promise.” Okay, so Taehyung didn’t exactly have this in mind when he thought of having them stay together, but what really matters is that he can pull excuses out of his ass like this and still have people believe him. And it’s not like it isn’t true anyway, one of the next steps in his treatment does involve direct desensitization, maybe not this soon, but soon, alright.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, and even though he’s itching to tell everyone to get out, he does trust Taehyung and his unorthodox methods, because they work. A month ago he couldn’t even stop washing his hands every ten minutes and taking a shower every hour, but now he’s gotten to the point where his skin isn’t dry and crackly from excessive washing. 

“Thanks hyung, this means a lot,” Jimin turns to him sincerely, and Namjoon can only give him a strained smile in response as Seokjin shifts his weight onto the couch, before throwing up all over his floor. 

“No problem, I had an extra room anyway,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth.

*

“Hey, punk.” You greet him with a fond smile on your face as you peek into his ward, and Jeongguk’s doe eyes practically light up to see you.

“Noona! Finally, I was getting so bored in here,” he pouts adorably with his lower lip jutting out as you take a seat beside his bed. “Did you bring it?”

“Yeah I did,” you grumble as you lift his heavy laptop and set it gently onto his lap. “Nearly died getting this into work today, you owe me one, big time.”

But it’s all worth it just for the look on Jeongguk’s face as he unzips his laptop case and pulls out his computer and mouse from within. The last time you saw him, you’d made the mistake of asking if he needed anything, and he claimed he was undergoing serious Overwatch withdrawals and begged you to lug his gaming computer over for him.

“I swear, you’re happier to see your computer than you are to see me,” you tease him with your arms crossed over your chest. “Is this all I am to you?”

“What? No!! Noona, you-“ his voice is cut off even as his fingers itch to lift the lid of his laptop. “Noona, I love you so much.”

You can’t help but laugh at his attempt to convince you, since his eyes are still fixed on the screen of his laptop even as he says it. “Save it, I know what I am to you.”

“No, really,” Jeongguk’s eyes leave the screen of his laptop to focus on you.

You smile back at him, reaching over to check on his bandages and generally fussing over him, aware that he enjoys the attention. “How are you doing though? Better?”

“Much better physically,” Jeongguk would never allow himself to admit that he’s anything less than perfectly functional, but when it comes to you, it feels a little easier, a little less like accepting defeat and more like allowing himself to admit that maybe he can’t shoulder everything on his own all the time.

Jeongguk doesn’t have much experience talking about things like this, so it’s more of the things he doesn’t say that say much more about him. 

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, and you both know that it’s not his physical state you’re talking about.

“Noona, it’s just…” Jeongguk hesitates as he fiddles with his laptop. “What happens after I get discharged from here? Do I… go home and stuff?”

“Generally, yes, that’s what people do when they get discharged,” you answer him with a grin. “Why, did you want to stay here for longer?”

“Y’know, it’s not too bad, having pretty nurses and an even prettier doctor at my beck and call,” Jeongguk grins. “Hey, do you think you could borrow one of the nurse’s uniforms? I’ve always had this thing for nurse fantasies and prescribed blowjobs to speed healing-“

“Okay, okay, I think our time is up,” you wince at the mention of it, holding up your hands to stop him, but you know he’s just joking around, so you don’t actually get up to leave. Instead, you place a hand over his larger one. “Things won’t change after you get discharged, Jeongguk. You don’t have to worry about people treating you differently now that they know. As much as you doubt so, things can and will go back to normal.”

The teasing smirk and crinkles at the corner of his eyes have disappeared now, and Jeongguk is fiddling with the corner of his blanket. He spares you a glance from under his golden hair that’s partially obscuring his vision. “I just… don’t want them to treat me like I’m fragile or something. And now that this happened, I feel like I can’t go on like how I did before, just ignoring everything and charging straight ahead without a second thought.

“Sometimes, I just want to talk about things with someone, tell them how I’m lost and how I don’t feel like existing anymore, but I don’t want them to be sad or worry about how to comfort me. I don’t want to be this toxic person who rains on everyone’s parade with these kind of thoughts, but I just want them to understand. I just want to tell someone. And then we can go on with our lives as per normal, and go get lamb skewers or something.”

“You can tell me,” you say as you squeeze his hand tightly. “I know it seems like it’s my job to psychoanalyze everything people say, but sometimes people just need to get things off their chests.

“I’ll even promise to buy you food every time after.”

*

This is one of the rare times that you’re thankful for how busy work keeps you, and even though it’s tiring, it keeps you from thinking about whatever happened two nights before.

It’s nice to engage in mindless chatter with the ward clerks at the counter, from giggling over the latest new intern who got transferred in and wondering if he’s single, to discussing the best places to get a full spa day. It’s one of the rare moments where you truly feel a little less tired of everything, and it’s nice to forget, even for a little while.

A slim, pale girl with jet black long hair approaches the counter just as you giggle over Joy’s lame joke. She’s dressed in a pair of cuffed denim shorts and a tank top that seems to engulf her tiny figure, and there’s a hesitant look on her face.

“Hi, can we help you?” Joy is the first to notice her, and you turn around immediately.

“Oh, um, I was just wondering if there’s a Taehyung here. Kim Taehyung.”

Joy’s eyes narrow just a tad. “May I have your name please? And what’s the nature of this, may I ask?”

“Lee Sunmi,” she says as she wraps her arms around herself; her fragility seems to be emphasised in volumes by such a simple action, and you suddenly feel a surge of protectiveness over her small frame. “Um, it’s confidential.”

“I’m afraid he’s not in at the moment, his duty doesn’t start till 2pm,” Seulgi offers helpfully from behind the desk, only to be on the receiving end of Joy’s glare.

“Oh,” she seems disappointed by this information, and you reach out to place a hand soothingly on her arm. “It’s okay, I’ll wait.”

“Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you? Maybe one of us can help you instead?” You take in her tearstained cheeks and smudged makeup with a growing concern.

“I-I know this is the psychiatric department, but… I need a pr-pregnancy test. And Taehyung told me he’d accompany me.” 

*

Jimin’s thighs are groaning in protest with every step he takes, and not to mention there’s a whole flight of stairs waiting for him ahead. It’s times like this that he absolutely regrets choosing to live here, and regrets even more that he chooses to go extra hard for leg day.

He briefly wonders how you’re doing at work and if you’d be back home already; but these thoughts are pushed to the back of his mind when he sees a suspicious looking silhouette lingering in front of the house. Jimin powers through the last few steps, trying not to let it show on his face as he places himself in between the stranger and the house.

“Who are you?” His tone is rude, and he could have worded his question better, but Jimin is tired from his workout and just wants to collapse into bed without even showering.

The man turns around, and Jimin recognises him as the man you were speaking to just a few nights ago, not that he peeked out of the window to eavesdrop on your conversation anyway. He was just doing his job to make sure you were safe. 

“O-oh, nice to meet you, I’m Jung Hoseok, and I assume you live with _____?” Hoseok’s observant gaze flits down to the keys in Jimin’s grasp. “Is she in right now? I’d like to see her for a bit.”

Jimin can almost feel his protective hackles rising as he remembers the way you looked after talking to him that night, tearstained and so heart achingly lonely. “She’s not in right now. And she said she doesn’t want to see you ever again, so please stop coming here.”

“She did, didn’t she?” The sudden change of tone has Jimin immediately on alert, as the once neutral expression on Hoseok’s face turns into an ugly smirk. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you must be Park Jimin right?”

“Yes, I am,” Jimin answers cautiously, balling up his fists in case this guy needs to be punched. But his next statement catches him off guard, does more damage than he would have ever envisioned, and it turns out that Jung Hoseok never intended on relying on physical strength to get his way.

“Interesting,” Hoseok raises his eyebrows as he takes in the apartment behind Jimin casually. “You know, I found it really interesting that _____ just so happens to live with two- now three- of her patients. _____ always had a thing for dating her patients, so I wonder which one of you three she’s currently fucking? Or maybe she’s sleeping with all three of you at the same time?”

Jimin is struggling with the urge not to sink his fist right into the other man’s nose, and gathers himself together just enough. “What the fuck are you talking about? How did you know all this?”

Hoseok is the epitome of composure as he watches Jimin break out into a sweat. “How did I know she likes to fuck her patients? Past experience, bro.”

He pauses to let his words sink in. “It looks like it might be you… did I guess correctly? You look like her type. In any case, it’d do you good to remember that the only reason why she puts up with you is because she has some serious issues underlying all of that doctor act she puts up. Not because she really loves you. Trust me, once she’s had enough, she’ll dump you like you’re yesterday’s trash.”

The words sound muffled to Jimin, as if he’s hearing them underwater, and suddenly it feels as if he’s treading water as well, like he’s in the midst of one of his games. He blinks rapidly to try and clear the water that’s flooding his eyes even through his goggles, hands coming up to his face to ensure that they’re still on him, but his fingers encounter nothing but the smooth skin of his eyelids instead.

“Anyway, nice meeting you, Park. Let ____ know I dropped by,” Hoseok says with an easy smile as he turns to saunter away, and Jimin takes a step toward his retreating back, but it feels as if he’s walking on the spot, unable to advance any further.

His fingers are suddenly itching, and it’s all he can do to unlock the door in front of him and stumble to his room. He throws himself to the floor on his knees, not even caring about the pain that radiates through his joints as he reaches for the handle of a drawer and pulls it out hurriedly, rummaging pointedly for the one object that he wants.

*

The sight of crimson stained flesh is naturally alarming to most, but Jimin only stares at it with a sort of morbid fascination, and somehow there’s a disconnect between what his eyes are perceiving and what his brain processes it as.

“He does it because he loves you, and he wants you to grow up to become better,” his mother tells him even as she sponges the blood away from the cuts on his legs. “He means well.” 

Another stroke, and it feels like the pressure in his chest lessens even while the area between his thighs grow damper.

“Th-then what about you?” Jimin looks at the bruises on his mother’s arms with wide eyes. “Does he do it because he loves you too? Because he wants you to be better too?”

His mother tugs her sleeves down to cover her own bruises, smiling as she places her hand on his cheek. “Yes, your father loves us very much.”

Jimin looks at her like she’s his entire world, and if she says it’s okay, then it’s okay. “How can we become better for him? So that he won’t hit us anymore, and so that he’ll love us?”

It doesn’t hurt, he’s long ago stopped registering the pain.

“Just let him be, Jimin. This is what he needs to do to show that he loves us.”

*

It’s nearly midnight when you finish your shift, and you’re itching to get back home. Taehyung’s cell has been off the entire day, and he didn’t even show up for his shift like he was supposed to, so naturally you had to cover for him. In the end you told Sunmi to go home after trying countless of times to contact Taehyung.

A quick perusal of the shoerack tells you that he’s not home, and on top of your anger at him for leaving Sunmi in the lurch, is genuine concern for your best friend. You enter the house only to find Seokjin gone from the couch and Yoongi raiding the fridge. 

“Yoongi? Did you see Taehyung today?”

Yoongi pulls out some rice and pauses to turn to you. “No, why? Should he be here or something?”

“No, it’s just- he didn’t turn up for work today, and there was a sort of situation.” 

Yoongi only shrugs in response, turning back to the kitchen counter to resume making his dinner.

“Oh, Hoseok dropped by earlier again today. You sure you don’t know that guy?”

“No, I really don’t,” you shoot over your shoulder. “What did he say this time?”

“Don’t know, I think Jimin was the one who talked to him. Maybe ask him?”

You make a non-committal grunt in reply, not exactly sure you want to know what the two men talked about right at that instant. Heading toward your room, you pause to glance past Taehyung’s open door to see if he’s in, but it’s empty, just as you expected. Pulling out your phone again to check for any new messages or calls, worry etches lines across your forehead when the screen shows up blank.

Jimin’s door is closed and it looks like the lights are off inside, so you pad quietly past into your own room and close the door. You drop your bag off by on your desk, suddenly feeling as if it’s been years and years since the day started, and collapse into bed, closing your eyes in an attempt to escape from it all.

*

Taehyung flicks through the notifications on his phone in disinterest, only barely noting that you’ve been calling him non-stop since that afternoon. What’s more pressing are the multiple texts and voice messages from Sunmi, all of which are things that he’d prefer to ignore.

He closes the lid of the bowl of instant noodles in front of him, suddenly losing his appetite. He’s been trying to ignore the gnawing worry at the back of his mind for what seems forever now, alternating between trying to forget the first time he slept with Sunmi and desperately trying to remember if he’d pulled out.

Taehyung clearly remembers having done so- he never cums in anyone. 

Anxiety is building in his chest, rising to a crescendo that matches the restless jiggling of his leg against the table. With a sudden surge of energy, Taehyung pushes his chair back from the table and stands, feeling as if he might explode if he stays still for just a second longer.

He pushes the door of the convenience store open and heads out onto the street, hailing a cab that will take him to Sunmi’s. What would you even say if you knew about this? You’d probably tell him that he can’t run from things forever, and tell him to man the fuck up.

So Taehyung finds himself standing in front of Sunmi’s door after having ignored all her texts and calls for the past day or so. He hesitantly knocks on the door, praying with all his might that she’s not in, but of course, luck isn’t on his side as she opens the door to greet him, barely dressed with a robe hastily thrown over her figure.

“T-Taehyung! You didn’t tell me you were coming over!” Sunmi’s eyes are widened in surprise, and she lingers in the doorway, as if hesitant to let him in. “I’ve been texting and calling you all day.”

“Y-Yeah, about that. I’m sorry. I just came to talk things over.” Taehyung peers over her smaller frame into her empty living room. “Is it a bad time?”

“No!” Sunmi steps aside hastily. “No, of course not, come in, take a seat.”

Taehyung makes himself comfortable as Sunmi disappears in the opposite direction of the kitchen. She reappears a few seconds later, heading past him into the kitchen this time, and he gets up to follow her inside.

On the kitchen table are two empty wine glasses, and Taehyung immediately narrows his eyes in suspicion. Both glasses look like they’ve been used, and there’s a tell-tale pool of red liquid at the bottom.

“Been drinking?” He remarks casually as he watches Sunmi reach for a mug.

She’s startled by his comment, whirling around to follow his gaze to the two wine glasses on the table. Taehyung can see a slight waver in her expression, just a flicker of panic in her eyes and a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, before she gives him a forced smile.

“Oh, no I was just having some friends over. Need to watch my alcohol, especially now that I might be…” Her voice trails off as she glances down.

She hands Taehyung his drink and wraps her arms around herself, pulling on the tie on her robe to close the garment a little tighter around herself. Taehyung’s eyes are drawn to the sliver of skin of her collarbone exposed by her robe, her usually porcelain complexion is now marred with navy and violet bruises that he definitely didn’t remember leaving.

“I went to the hospital today to look for you, but you weren’t in. Waited till your shift started too, but you didn’t turn up.”

“Really? Thought you had friends over today.”

“That was after,” Sunmi hurriedly tacks on, and Taehyung only nods in response, entirely unconvinced.

Now that he’s able to think calmly, without the panicked fog obscuring his rationality, he can smell the familiar musk of sex and sweat wafting off her. He’s so familiar with that smell that it’s obvious even under the layer of perfume she has on to mask it. 

“You know; I came over because I wanted to make things right.” He says with as much sincerity as he can muster, and Sunmi falls for it, hook, line and sinker.

“R-really?” She looks a little shocked, and maybe a tad bit doubtful, so Taehyung decides he needs to step up his game.

“Yes, really. I was the one who got you into this situation, so I think I should be there for you when you need me most.”

Sunmi looks as if she’s at a loss of what to say, be it from shock or guilt, so Taehyung decides to strike while the iron is hot.

“Let me move in with you?”

*

A furious pounding wakes you up from your slumber, and you groggily open your eyes, whining in protest. Surprisingly, you realise that it’s Yoongi’s voice coming from outside your door, and nearly fall out of bed as you make your way to the door, sheets still entangled around your legs.   

“What is it?” You ask upon swinging open the door.

“It’s Jimin, come quick!” Yoongi is a man of few words, but at this point you know him so well that you can pick up on the panic in his voice.

He turns around and heads for Jimin’s room, with the door now open wide. You follow him, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste, and you freeze upon seeing him passed out in a pool of crimson red.

“Fuck,” you jolt into action and throw yourself onto your knees beside him, sliding your arm around his neck to cradle his head as you open his eyelids and check his vital signs. His skin feels cold to the touch, and he’s not responding at all.

Choking back a sob, desperation is rising in your chest as you mumble at Yoongi to get an ambulance. Your eyes are still fixed on the nasty gashes on his thighs, guilt eating away at you as you try and remember the last thing you said to him, if you’d done anything to trigger him, but the multitude of thoughts that are racing through your mind makes it impossible.

Jimin looks like he could be sleeping like this, apart from the deathly pale colour of his lips, and you will yourself to believe it, telling yourself over and over that he’ll be okay. You’re running your fingers through his faded blonde hair, panicked breaths making it hard to think straight and you can barely hear Yoongi’s voice as he tells you that the paramedics are here.

The next thing you know, you’re seated in a stiff, hard backed chair and staring at the familiar yet isolating white walls of the hospital. 

You barely register Yoongi’s presence next to you, until he reaches for your hand to place a piping hot cup of coffee into your grasp. 

“Yoongi- what did Hoseok say to Jimin?” You turn to him, only to see similar lines of worry and concern etched across his forehead.

“I’m not sure, I only know they talked because I left my room to get something, and saw them outside the house. Thought he had everything settled, that’s why I went back to my room. Heard the door slamming a while later, but I didn’t think much of it.” Yoongi cradles his own hands around his cup, staring into the dark liquid as steam curls off the surface.

“I saw you guys the other night.” 

His sudden statement catches you mid sip, and you scald your tongue. “Wh-what? Which night was this?”

“The night you kissed Park Jimin and treated him like a fucking rebound.”

“I didn’t- wait, you saw all of this? That’s creepy as fuck, you know that right?”

But Yoongi ignores you and keeps going. “I’m guessing this Hoseok guy is your ex who keeps showing up, and you don’t want to deal with his shit so you’re avoiding him while trying to deny your feelings for Park. Hit the nail on the head yet?”

“Wh- fuck you, you don’t know anything about me, so stop acting like you do.” Yoongi’s a lot more perceptive than you’d realised, and upon hearing his accusations out loud like that, your defences snap back into place, and you can almost feel your hackles rising.

“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but thanks for confirming it,” Yoongi’s chuckle gets on your already frazzled nerves. “You know that Park Jimin doesn’t deserve being your collateral damage right?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s nothing going on with Jimin and I. The only relationship that exists between us is a patient and doctor relationship. Period.” You can only hope that the resolution in your voice shuts down any further commentary from him, but no such luck.

“If only things were that simple eh? If only all relationships were all one dimensional; black and white, how fucking great would that be?”

“I. Don’t. Have. Feelings. For. Him.” You say through gritted teeth.

Yoongi shrugs in response. “Have it your way, but you know what’s your problem? You’re scared. Scared of taking off that god damn mask of perfection and emotionlessness and letting others see what’s underneath it. You’re using this whole professionalism thing as an excuse to keep a distance from him, and you may be able to lie to me about your feelings for him, but deep down I think you know the truth.”

Yoongi may be a lot more perceptive than you ever thought he could be, but he still doesn’t know the full picture, and he has no idea what he’s talking about. What he’s saying is just pure speculation, and you really shouldn’t let him get to you like this. He’s entirely wrong. Without realizing, your hands have tightened into fists, making the drink slosh over onto your hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The sensation of the hot liquid scalding your skin barely registers as you fight to keep your gaze on the wall in front of you, if only to escape his penetrating stare.

“You can’t keep using this as an excuse.”

But Yoongi doesn’t know the full story, doesn’t understand that you can’t let yourself go down that path again, can’t let someone else hurt you like that again. He thinks it’s just a simple ‘hung up over an ex and unwilling to take a chance at new love’ kind of story, when it’s so much more than that,

“Look, Yoongi, I don’t know why you think you have the right to lecture me like this, but you don’t know anything. It’s way more complicated than this, there’s a lot more at stake than you think.”

“Then tell me.”

There’s a beat of silence where you imagine pouring everything out to him, disregarding the fact that he is technically still one of your patients. And you imagine how good it would feel, to lay down everything for a second and let someone else shoulder the weight of it with you.

But then the doctor exits from the ward, and you’re off your feet instantly.

“How is he?”

“He’s alright, just suffered some major blood loss, but nothing that we couldn’t fix with a blood transfusion. He’s awake now, and you can go and see him, but please refrain from overwhelming him. Just one visitor at a time, please.”

Yoongi places a hand on your back to push you into the room, and you don’t even look back as you enter.

Jimin is propped up against his pillow, with his messy blonde hair sticking up in all directions and his eyes are immediately on you. He seems a little better now, with some colour in his cheeks, and it doesn’t look like he’s in one of his other personalities.

“Hi.” Relief fills your chest as you take in his appearance, sitting by his side and reaching for his hand on top of the sheet. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” he reciprocates your grip with a squeeze, glancing up with a smile. “I’m sorry, you must have been really worried.” 

“D-do you know what happened then?” You ask cautiously, and before you can help it, you’re reaching over to push a strand of his hair out of his eyes. When you catch yourself in the act, you swallow hard, convincing yourself that you’re just doing this out of a platonic concern alone, like how you treated Jeongguk.

“I fainted, didn’t I?” He frowns slightly, as if trying to recall. “H-Hoseok came to the house again. I remember being so angry that I wanted to punch him, so I must have gotten into a fight with him. That’s how I ended up here. Right?”

His voice rises at the end of his sentence in uncertainty, as he waits for you to confirm and reassure him.

“Y-yes, that’s right Jimin,” you force your voice to sound as soothing as possible, even as you stroke his cheek absent-mindedly. He doesn’t seem to remember hurting himself, but since he can remember the encounter with Hoseok, his personality must have taken over after it happened.

“Is it true then? What he said?” His words jolt you back into awareness of your actions, and you hastily withdraw your hand.

“Hoseok? Wh-what did he say?”

“You used to date him, and you broke up with him because you got bored of him.”

That little fucking asshole. You clench your jaw as you imagine Hoseok riling Jimin up, and being entirely to blame for triggering Jimin’s personality.

“Yes, it’s true, we used to date, but I didn’t break up with him because I was bored of him.” You force yourself to appear as calm as possible, when all you can think of is the night you found him in bed with Bae Suzy, and that sickening realisation that accompanied it.

“Then why did you break up with him?”

You’re struggling to find an answer for him, fighting through the sudden flash of images that flood your mind.

Jimin watches you through sleepy, drooping eyes, but he forces himself to focus on you. Looking at you makes him feel like everything might be okay again, and you feel like home to him, if home was anything but a physical place. Like it doesn’t even matter that you’ll love him and throw him away at a second’s notice, because all he wants is for you to look at him like this all the time, never mind that he’ll get hurt, because it’s all worth it.

A part of him aches to be more than just your patient, even if it’s just temporary.

“He cheated on me,” is the simple explanation you offer him. And maybe it’s his drowsiness, or maybe it’s the genuinely devastated, heartbroken expression on your face, but Jimin finds that he believes it whole heartedly, believes you over Jung Hoseok any day.

“Okay.” Is all he says, and he takes in your look of surprise with something akin to amusement

“Just ‘okay’?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He gives you a sleepy little smile, and you return it, reaching to adjust his blanket.

Jimin grips your hand tightly, a mild panic clogging his throat even through the haze of drowsiness that tugs and beckons him back to sleep.

“C-can you stay with me?” He wills himself to keep a hold of your hand, worried that you’ll reject him and leave him all alone again. “Please?”

“Till you fall asleep, and even after then,” you shift closer to his bed, resting your cheek on your arm so that you can watch his angelic features stretch into a relieved smile, before he closes his eyes and slips into a restful slumber.

As you watch him fall asleep, only one thought occurs to you: Yoongi might be right after all. 

When We Bear Our Scars By Mira Rose (me)

For my 23rd birthday, my parents bought me a gift I didn’t want. Fortunately for them, I couldn’t return it.  Though unfortunately for me, Cassandra Morgan, I have found myself at the Institute of Physical Disfigurement and the Re-grafted.  Now, I am standing at a desk while the young secretary tries not to stare at me. Very likely, she is trying to find the “disfigurement” that has brought me here. When I told my parents that I just wanted to forget, this is not what I meant.

        “Do you have an appointment today, Mrs. Morgan?”

        “Yes, I do. I have the papers right here.” I hand her the carefully sealed records from within my bag.

        “Ah, yes. That will do very nicely, Mrs. Morgan. However, you will need to fill this out as well.” She hands me a form with an official stamp of the Institute on the bottom left corner. Next to it, I had to sign my name and the date. I skim through the lists before running into an achingly familiar question.

        “Would you mind if I sat down for this?” I look at her, and she quickly looks away, but not before I see a flash of something in her gaze. Recognition.

        “Not at all, Mrs. Morgan. You can have a seat over there.” She points to the small corner of the room, where half a dozen chairs and two benches sit. Two chairs were occupied, along with one of the benches.

        I go to sit on the empty bench, which sits across from the occupied chairs along the wall. An older couple was occupying the chairs. The wife was speaking in a rushed manner, and kept making small glances about the room, like a caged animal. The husband of the wife looks tired. That was the only thing that could describe his quiet voice and heavy sigh after each sentence the wife sputtered into existence.

        “Well, aren’t you worried that it will leave a scar? And what about your parents-your boss, even? You know how I feel about your brother, and I like this even less!”

        The man looks up after gazing at the wall for a while. His response is slow and purposeful, much unlike his chastising wife. “Polly, dear, he is my brother. It is the least I can do for him. We are family. If he needs a kidney then I will gladly give him one of mine.”

        The wife, Polly, as her husband called her, clearly did not feel the same way. She opens her mouth to say something else when, suddenly, the door opens and a middle-aged nurse appears. She holds the door open and beckons toward the young couple. “Right this way, Mr. Harris.” The husband takes leave of his wife, who silently fumes behind him as he exits the room.

        At my bench, I try to focus on the paper in my lap. I do not want this. My parents think it will help, but I do not share their beliefs on this.

        One of the questions asks: Have you or a family member ever had a piercing tattoo, scar, burn, or other physical disfigurement? Do you or a family member currently have a disfigurement?

        Well, that’s an easy one. Beside the question, I check the box labeled YES.

Here at the Institute of Physical Disfigurement and the Re-grafted, permanence is only temporary. They cover up all forms of skin problems and provide the ultimate skin care packages with every treatment. They can graft new skin for burns, cover up tattoos, and even make your scars disappear, but their success is only limited to the outside. Some scars are harder to fix but easier to hide.

        I had just finished checking another of the boxes when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a strange movement of red. A small red ball comes bouncing into my vision, and with it came the chubby hands of a toddling child. He has bouncy brown curls and large green eyes. A light dusting of freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. The ball stops just short of reaching, so I stoop to pick it up. He was about a year old, but he was very sturdy and well advanced at walking. I laugh to myself as he toddles back to his mother, who bends to wipe his cheek with a small disinfectant wipe.

        I flip over onto the next page of the form. Most of the questions were intended to better identify any non-physical ailments, and it included several survey questions. The better to understand you, my dear. The words from the children’s story, Little Red Riding Hood, suddenly trespasses into my thoughts. I cannot help but compare this quiet hospital to the story of the girl with the red cloak trying to save her grandmother from the Big Bad Wolf. Only in this situation, the Big Bad Wolf could only be my own self-doubt; the Grandmother could only be my memories.

        The door to the back rooms opens again. A young boy of about 10 emerges from the wooden door frame. As he turns away from the door, a doctor grabs his shoulder. “You be good now, and take care of that hand. Remember, scars attract bullies.” He pats the boy on the shoulder in a very reassuring fashion before the door closes between them again. On the boy’s left hand, a bandage is wrapped around his wrist and palm. The boy notices me staring and smiles at me, more than a little sheepish. “I fell down while running with scissors at school.” I nod at the boy as he walks over to where the mother and her baby have claimed the first bench. The elder boy looks more like the mother than the younger, with light blond hair and blue eyes. A pang goes through me as I flip back to the front page of the form.

        A question rises up before me, as threatening as a lion out of its cage: What is your reason for visiting us today? I had hastily written Disfigurement, but I know I will have to be clearer for the doctor.

        Three months ago, I was expecting my first child. I had only been married for a little over a year, and my husband and I were both very excited for our child. However, when I went into labor, the doctors found a problem with the baby. They had decided that I needed surgery. My husband objected to the doctor’s suggestion, so it was put off. However, the baby wouldn’t come. Finally my husband, Will, did opt for the surgery. That day, I got to hold my baby girl. We passed her around to our parents and close friends. We named her Julia Dee Morgan. We loved her, but our little Julia never went home with us.

        Now, three months later, I have a scar along my stomach, where I nurtured my daughter for nine months. My husband hates it. He wanted me to cover it as soon as the scar healed. My parents agreed with him. The doctors also thought “it would be for the best.” I just couldn’t understand why they would want me to erase the one proof of my daughter having ever lived, besides a piece of paper that could easily wither and fade.

        I told everyone that I wanted to forget. This was their solution: to erase the memory with a fresh layer of skin. I didn’t want to forget my daughter; but I did want to forget the pain of losing her. That thought led me to coming here today, but even now the Exit seems so appealing, and so easy to walk through. People think that scars can heal with a fresh coating of skin or a convenient trip to the DTML, or Department of Trauma and Mental Illness, where a stranger asks you the same questions and gives out the same advice. Sometimes, though, all you really need is someone to talk to; someone that understands you in ways that most people can’t. I thought that I had found that trust in Will, but he turned out just like all of the others when it mattered most. Now, I am here, in a place where people that bear scars believe they should be erased in order to fit into our “perfect” society. Perfect cannot be perfect if you only cover up the outermost layer. Sometimes, the inside has more scars than the outside.

        A thought forms in my mind then, and I stand up, leaving my half-finished form. I look toward the Exit doors. That would be running away. I think of the world, of how physical blemishes mar beauty and reduce your chances for success. I think of how tattoos cause people to lose their jobs and close friendships. I think of a world where physical imperfection causes people to bury their true scars to the deepest parts of themselves, as if they go away as easily as the physical ones are covered up with innocent layers of fresh, smooth skin.

        “Mrs. Morgan, where are you going? Mrs. Morgan?” I hear the secretary shuffling behind her desk, clearly worried. However, I do not care for anyone else at the moment. There might as well be no one else in the room.

        I walk over to the listing for the rooms available at the Institute. I scan the list until I find what I want. The elevator stands to the right of the waiting area, and I push the button. The floors count downwards: 3…2…1... and the elevator opens with a quick ding. I step into the elevator and press the number 3 that will take me to the third floor. I ignore everything else.

Another office lies before me, but this one is different. It is even smaller than the 1st floor, and even more unoccupied. A man sits at the desk in the middle of the room, and just as before, I catch a flash of recognition. It doesn’t bother me this time.

He smiles at me as I approach him. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Morgan. Do you have an appointment?” I smile as I shake my head at him.

“Well, then, what will it be today; a piercing perhaps?” I smile and shake my head again. “I was thinking more along the lines of a tattoo…”

“Well, what a splendid choice! Do you have anything in mind?”

“I believe I do. You see, I recently realized something, and I thought this would be just the perfect thing…”

I stand before a mirror in the small bathroom of my hotel room. Along the lines of my stomach, where a healing, red scar runs along my womb, something new is there. Black lines of ink dot the red, puckered scar. Scissors snip at the end of it. Above the small lines, you can clearly see the name Julia Dee and her birthday, August 19, 2044.

I hear a knock at the door, and fix my soft blue robe on my person before unlocking the door. “Ah, Miss. Dale, I trust your room is to your liking?”

“It is, and very much so. Thank you, Mr. Davis.”  I smile at him, and he tilts his head to the side, staring at me in a quizzical matter.

“Is something the matter? You have been acting different since your trip three weeks ago.” His eyebrows rise up into his hairline. “Hopefully something good, yes?” He glances down at my empty wedding finger and frowns, the twinkle in his gaze dissipating as quickly as a candle when you smother it with glass.

“Something good did happen, Mr. Davis, but not because of Mr. Morgan.” At that, his eyebrows rise even higher until you couldn’t see them anymore. In response, I place my lips close to his ear. “It’s a secret,” I whisper into the silence.

At that moment, the TV switches to the news and the “Tragic Divorce Between Businessman William Morgan and Cassandra Dale for the scandalous tattoo “In Honor of Julia Dee.” I glance at the TV, but the faces I see no longer bother me. In the background, I can hear the popular song “It’s a Perfect World” by the Freed. I think of everything I have witnessed these past few months, in one small waiting area. I think of the secretary looking for the obvious scars. I think of the husband that wants to donate one of his kidneys to his brother and of the materialistic wife that is only worried about what others might think. I think of the boy who cut his hand with scissors. Apparently, bullies find children with scars easy targets. It is nothing new, but now it is more literal.

Lastly, I think of myself and of Julia Dee. All of these things were occurring long before I learned of her, though. I was just a fool that failed to see it. I think of how we bear our scars. We hide them and we conceal them. We are afraid of them. They intimidate us. We do not believe in flaw or imperfection as the “right” way to live. We hide the truth of them behind new skin for every blemish. We hide behind our skin. We hide from the truth. I smile to myself, thinking of all the fools of the world; myself included.

I glance at the TV again, to the world where my memory of Julia Dee cost me my husband and status. In the end, those little things do not matter. I feel a pang at the memory of the little girl I held in my arms. She had been born with a large red birthmark on her face. William said that it was my fault. Why? Because, apparently, scars are as contagious as they are unwanted. No matter what anyone else said, though, she would always be perfect in my eyes.

When Mr. Davis leaves, I content myself to watching the world outside of the window. Children play at a nearby park. They are so small and seemingly innocent. As I gaze at them, I hope they do not become the next fools of the world. I hope they see that there are many types of scars, and not all of them can be seen on the surface.

“My, what a ‘perfect’ world this is,” I say to the window.

“Oh, did you say something, miss?” Mr. Davis had returned. Perhaps we are all fools, hiding behind masks of skin.

“I was simply enjoying the view.” Yes, fools. This world is filled with them, and I will no longer be one.

The 2017 Walt Disney Studios Motion Picture Slate has me giddy to say the least with familiar and favorite stories being re-told and continued, a chance to journey into nature, and to go on a colorful adventure.

I can’t wait any longer…let’s go!

New in 2017: Walt Disney Studios Motion Picture Slate

March 17, 2017 – Beauty and the Beast (Walt Disney Studios)

Every time I see the Beauty and the Beast trailer I have to catch my breath a little, because Belle is one of my top Disney Princesses and I cannot wait to watch Emma Watson as Belle live out the dream of dancing with Beast in the ballroom or to see/hate Luke Evans as Gaston.

Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” is a live-action re-telling of the studio’s animated classic which refashions the classic characters from the tale as old as time for a contemporary audience, staying true to the original music while updating the score with several new songs.

Walt Disney Studios

“Beauty and the Beast” is the fantastic journey of Belle, a bright, beautiful and independent young woman who is taken prisoner by a beast in his castle. Despite her fears, she befriends the castle’s enchanted staff and learns to look beyond the Beast’s hideous exterior and realize the kind heart and soul of the true Prince within.

Seriously…is it May yet???

April 21, 2017 – Born In China (Disneynature)

Watching Born in China will be the perfect way to celebrate Earth Day this year! With stunning footage of never-before-seen imagery of China’s vast terrain, the movie’s adventure takes us through and above the frigid mountains to the heart of the bamboo forest while telling a compelling story.

Disneynature’s new True Life Adventure film “Born In China” takes an epic journey into the wilds of China where few people have ever ventured.

Walt Disney Studios

Following the stories of three animal families, the film transports audiences to some of the most extreme environments on Earth to witness some of the most intimate moments ever captured in a nature film. A doting panda bear mother guides her growing baby as she begins to explore and seek independence. A two-year-old golden monkey who feels displaced by his new baby sister joins up with a group of free-spirited outcasts. And a mother snow leopard—an elusive animal rarely caught on camera—faces the very real drama of raising her two cubs in one of the harshest and most unforgiving environments on the planet.

It’s been awesome to be able to share the next generation of ‘True Life Adventure’ films that I loved so much with my daughter, and Born in China looks to be an fantastic addition to the Disneynature films.

May 5, 2017 – Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (Marvel Studios)

The first Marvel Studios release in the 2017 Motion Picture Slate is going to set the bar pretty high for the summer, because I don’t know too many people who aren’t hyped for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2!

Set to the all-new sonic backdrop of Awesome Mixtape #2, Marvel’s “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2” continues the team’s adventures as they traverse the outer reaches of the cosmos.

Walt Disney Studios

The Guardians must fight to keep their newfound family together as they unravel the mystery of Peter Quill’s true parentage. Old foes become new allies and fan-favorite characters from the classic comics will come to our heroes’ aid as the Marvel Cinematic Universe continues to expand.

I. Cannot. Wait. From the moment I saw the first teaser photo, I flipped! Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 seems to be a continuation of the adventures with a perfect combination of action, witty dialogue, & amazing music…and this time we get more Baby Groot!

May 26, 2017 – PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES (Walt Disney Studios)

Fans of the Disney Parks can’t help but get excited to hear more familiar words that echo in the caverns of the attraction on the big screen! Dead Men Tell No Tales is a continuation of a story and ride that I have enjoyed most of my life!

Johnny Depp returns to the big screen as the iconic, swashbuckling anti-hero Jack Sparrow in the all-new “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales.”

Walt Disney Studios

The rip-roaring adventure finds down-on-his-luck Captain Jack feeling the winds of ill-fortune blowing strongly his way when deadly ghost sailors, led by the terrifying Captain Salazar (Javier Bardem), escape from the Devil’s Triangle bent on killing every pirate at sea—notably Jack. Jack’s only hope of survival lies in the legendary Trident of Poseidon, but to find it he must forge an uneasy alliance with Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario), a brilliant and beautiful astronomer, and Henry (Brenton Thwaites), a headstrong young sailor in the Royal Navy. At the helm of the Dying Gull, his pitifully small and shabby ship, Captain Jack seeks not only to reverse his recent spate of ill fortune, but to save his very life from the most formidable and malicious foe he has ever faced.

What could be wrong about having more Captain Jack Sparrow in 2017???

June 16, 2017 – CARS 3 (Disney / Pixar)

The intensity of the Cars 3 teaser trailer made me realize how emotionally invested I was in Lightning McQueen…A sentence I never thought I would type.

Blindsided by a new generation of blazing-fast racers, the legendary Lightning McQueen (voice of Owen Wilson) is suddenly pushed out of the sport he loves.

Walt Disney Studios

To get back in the game, he will need the help of an eager young race technician, Cruz Ramirez (voice of Cristela Alonzo), with her own plan to win, plus inspiration from the late Fabulous Hudson Hornet and a few unexpected turns. Proving that #95 isn’t through yet will test the heart of a champion on Piston Cup Racing’s biggest stage!

When Zoe was younger we watched Cars on repeat and then when Cars 2 was released I watched as she enjoyed racing with her friends again, and now I can’t wait to experience Cars 3 with my favorite passenger!

November 3, 2017 – Thor: Ragnarok (Marvel Studios)

While Tony Stark is my main man, I can’t help but wait to see one of my other favorite Avengers back on the big screen.

In Marvel Studios’ “Thor: Ragnarok,” Thor is imprisoned on the other side of the universe without his mighty hammer and finds himself in a race against time to get back to Asgard to stop Ragnarok—the destruction of his homeworld and the end of Asgardian civilization—at the hands of an all-powerful new threat, the ruthless Hela. But first he must survive a deadly gladiatorial contest that pits him against his former ally and fellow Avenger—the Incredible Hulk!

Thor? Gladiatorial contest? The Incredible Hulk? Evil villain? I’m all in!

November 22, 2017 – COCO (Disney / Pixar)

At the 2015 D23 Expo in Anaheim, I was lucky (lucky = waited in the basement of the convention center for hours with great friends, even better conversation, and mediocre snacks) to snag a seat at the Walt Disney Studios presentation to hear about Coco.

Despite his family’s baffling generations-old ban on music, Miguel (voice of newcomer Anthony Gonzalez) dreams of becoming an accomplished musician like his idol, Ernesto de la Cruz (voice of Benjamin Bratt).

Walt Disney Studios

Desperate to prove his talent, Miguel finds himself in the stunning and colorful Land of the Dead following a mysterious chain of events. Along the way, he meets charming trickster Hector (voice of Gael García Bernal), and together, they set off on an extraordinary journey to unlock the real story behind Miguel’s family history.

I have always been intrigued by the Día de los Muertos celebrations, so you can only imagine what my excitement level is on a scale from 1 to 10…it’s an 11!

December 15, 2017 –  STAR WARS: EPISODE VIII (Lucasfilm)

2017 is going to end in a galaxy far, far away when Star Wars: Episode VIII hits the screen.

Now while we don’t know much about what adventures we will go on, we do know that this journey will push the boundaries of the saga even further.

Is there really a better way to end an amazing year of films?

If you aren’t pumped for the 2017 Walt Disney Studios Motion Picture Slate, then I don’t know if we can be friends! This is the stuff that movie dreams are made of, and I can’t wait to share more information and even some fun activities about them this year.

Also check out New in 2017: Walt Disney World Resort, New in 2017: Universal Orlando Resort, and New in 2017: SeaWorld Orlando!

Make sure you follow @onthegoinmco on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram to keep up with the latest news and trailers from the amazing Walt Disney Studios 2017 Motion Picture Slate!

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